


King and Country

by Goldy, thirty2flavors



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, some torture (offscreen), some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirty2flavors/pseuds/thirty2flavors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Tony’s eighth birthday, the Doctor is kidnapped by a paramilitary group who will do anything to defend Earth from aliens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://hysteriagalore.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://hysteriagalore.livejournal.com/)**hysteriagalore** for encouraging our nefarious use of her homeland. And my apologies to the world of modern science in general for the use of technobabble rooted in _Daleks in Manhattan_. We are an English major and a law student, what can I say.

Two laughing seven-year-olds dashed through the kitchen and Tony tore after them, shouting something that sounded like, “You aliens can try and take over the Earth, but I’m gonna stop you!” Rose dodged out of their way, oblivious to the screams and peals of laughter around her as she dialled the Doctor’s mobile, only to hear nothing but ringing on the other side.

Cursing under her breath, she flipped her phone shut and then glared at it for good measure.

“Rose, watch your tongue, there are children about,” said Jackie, setting an armful of empty pizza boxes down on the counter.

“He never answers his bloody mobile,” she said, folding her arms and leaning back against the kitchen counter with a scowl. She shook her head and looked at her mother. “How can it possibly take an hour and a half to pick up a cake?”

“I don’t know,” said Jackie, “but he’d better get back soon, or I’m gonna smack him. There’s only so long you can get a bunch of seven-year-olds to play musical chairs before you owe them cake.” Grabbing a handful of napkins from the counter, she headed back outside to the party.

“Maybe he’s talking to someone,” Pete suggested from his seat at the table, shrugging.

“For an _hour_?" she asked incredulously, and then sighed. She supposed that wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility.

The Doctor had never been particularly punctual, but an hour and a half on a trip that should’ve taken twenty minutes at most was stretching it. Besides that, he adored Tony and feared her mother; she'd thought those two things were more than enough to counteract his tendency towards distraction. She looked at the phone, worrying her lip. Where _was_ he?

“I should’ve gone with him,” she muttered, sighing again. “I knew he’d get distracted, I—“

“If it was anything interesting, he’d call you,” said Pete, resolute. “You think he’d miss the opportunity to do something utterly reckless with you?”

He was teasing, Rose knew, but instead of fighting back she shrugged, looking at the kitchen floor.

Pete sighed. “Rose, he’s fine. He can take care of himself.”

“Yeah,” she agreed reluctantly. She peered out the window, down the garden where Tony and his friends were now playing, her mouth still stuck in a frown. Her dad was right, of course; the Doctor knew what he was doing. In all likelihood he’d run into some stranger on the street who needed help with something he’d deemed too trivial to bother Rose with. He’d return any minute with the name of some new friend he’d made and absolutely no idea why she and her mum were so irritated. Tony and his friends would hardly notice the delay, presents would be opened, and the rest of the day would go off without a hitch.

With a frustrated sigh, Rose rubbed at her eyes. She and the Doctor did things every day that were far more dangerous than going to buy a bloody cake, and most of the time she felt nothing but excitement and adrenaline. So why was she nauseous with worry _now_?

“Go on then,” said Pete, gentler this time. “Take your mum’s car and go drag him back here. Keep your mobile on you, I’ll call if he shows up while you're gone. No harm in checking, is there?”

Rose smiled, relieved. “It’s probably nothing,” she said. All the same, she grabbed her mum’s keys off the counter and then leaned down to kiss Pete on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

\---

Ten minutes later, she was standing in an empty car park, trying to dial on her mobile with shaking fingers. It was three rings before anyone answered, and she took a few short, shallow breaths before she spoke.

“Dad? The baker said the Doctor left with the cake almost two hours ago and he hasn’t seen him since,” Rose took a breath and licked her lips. “Something’s gone wrong—I know it.”

\--

The Doctor woke up with a splitting headache and a man in a suit crouched in front of him. The room swam and then slowly came into focus as the Doctor's eyes adjusted to the light, and the man in the suit smiled.

"Hello," the man said, and the Doctor could hear a Swedish accent in his English. His smile turned to a frown of friendly concern. "Are you feeling all right?"

It took the Doctor perhaps a second longer than normal to parse the sentence; then he shot up into a sitting position. "Who are you?" he demanded. He looked left and right around the room, searching for a hint of familiarity. "Where am I?" He leapt to his feet but his head spun, and he reluctantly sank back onto the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The man in the suit stood up straight, still frowning. He was tall and blond and there was the confident air about him of someone who was used to having a lot of power. "Your head!" he exclaimed, as though he'd forgotten something. "So sorry, hang on..."

He turned around and walked towards a table behind him, and the Doctor took the opportunity to look for the door. It was on the other side of the room--which seemed to be a lounge--and he could just see someone's elbow through the doorway. The Doctor frowned. A guard, perhaps?

Where _was_ he?

"Here you are," said the man, holding out two red pills and a plastic cup full of water. He smiled. "That should help with the headache."

The Doctor looked at the pills and then looked at the man. "Mysterious pills from a stranger who just happens to be hanging around when I regain consciousness?" The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "I'll take my chances with the headache, if you don't mind."

The man's smile thinned only slightly, and he nodded. "Yes, of course. Very prudent of you." He tucked the pills into his pocket and set the cup back down on the table. "Once again, terribly sorry. My colleagues weren't trying to hurt you, they're just a little... overenthusiastic." He smiled knowingly, as though he expected that over the years the Doctor had worked with many people who sometimes knocked people unconscious when they got excited. "My name is Anders, by the way. I represent AIF. I was hoping we could have a chat." He extended his hand, but the Doctor didn't take it.

"AIF?" the Doctor repeated. "Never heard of it."

"Avdelningen för intergalaktiskt försva," said Anders, "the Swedish Department of--"

"--Intergalactic Defence," finished the Doctor. "Got it."

"They did say you have quite the knack for languages, Dr Smith."

"Yeah," said the Doctor. "Tell me, Anders, does AIF always kidnap someone when they want to have a chat? Have you ever tried, oh, I don't know, using the phone?"

Anders' tight smile never wavered, though he lowered his hand. "Much of the work we do here at AIF is of a sensitive nature, Dr Smith. It would be... unwise to discuss such matters over the phone." He stepped back, gesturing towards the door with one arm. "Shall I give you the grand tour, or do you still need a few minutes?"

Though his head was still pounding, the room seemed to have settled in one spot, and the Doctor stood easily.

"Wonderful," said Anders, beckoning the Doctor towards the door. "The sooner we get to talking the sooner you can be on your way."

"Right," said the Doctor stiffly, though he doubted it.

\--

They were just outside the doorway when the Doctor froze, patting his empty pockets.

"Ah, yes," said Anders, noticing the Doctor's distress, "my apologies, I'm afraid we did have to empty your pockets. It's a standard security measure."

Slowly, the Doctor let his hands fall to his sides. "You lot knock me unconscious while I'm buying a cake and you're worried about what _I_ might have in my pockets?"

Anders gave no indication of having noticed the Doctor's tone. "Sorry for the inconvenience. Your possessions will be returned to you when you leave." With that, he turned and started down the hallway with the Doctor in tow.

The guard who had been standing outside the door followed them. He was a stocky man, shorter than either the Doctor or Anders, and he was carrying a gun.

The Doctor watched the man warily over his shoulder, quickening his pace to fall in step alongside Anders. "Is the _armed guard_ completely necessary?"

Anders didn't spare the man a second glance. "Standard security procedure," he said, shrugging. "He's only here for our protection."

The Doctor snorted. "You want to make a place safe, I think the best way to start is to _get rid of the guns_."

Anders smiled again, and this time he seemed genuinely entertained. "There are many things in AIF's facilities which could be very dangerous in the wrong hands, Dr Smith. People like Torbjörn here help us stop that from happening."

The Doctor looked skeptically at Torbjörn. "I'll bet." Straightening his shoulders, the Doctor looked sidelong at Anders. "I haven't seen any windows anywhere. Are we underground?"

"We prefer to keep our location a secret," said Anders. "For--"

"Security?" The Doctor snorted. "Yeah, figured you might say that." He scratched his chin. "So, AIF... what do you lot do, exactly?"

"Fantastic question," said Anders, opening a locked door with a swipe of a security pass. "We're rather like the Torchwood your father-in-law runs, actually." He held the door open and the Doctor stepped through. "We protect Sweden and the rest of Earth and its people from alien threats. A worthy goal, wouldn't you agree?"

"Certainly," said the Doctor, nodding absently. "But I'm not sure what it has to do with me. I don't work for Torchwood."

"No. But you've made quite a name for yourself, Dr Smith." Anders smiled again just as the door slid open. "You have a beautiful wife."

A shiver ran down the Doctor's spine and he swallowed. He was very certain he didn't like the idea that Anders was even aware of Rose's existence. Where was she, anyway? She hadn't been with him when he'd gone to get the cake. Was she still safe?

" _And_ they say you're a genius," Anders went on. "And _that_ \--lovely though your wife may be--is what really interests me."

The Doctor said nothing. Anders led them to a second set of doors in the new hallway and pressed his hand to a scanner. The Doctor looked up and down the hallway, taking stock of the security features that marked each set of doors. Most of them featured the same palm scanner Anders was currently fiddling with, but one, just three doors down, looked as though it was made of solid steel.

He smiled quickly and stepped through the door. The Doctor hesitated but followed reluctantly, Torbjörn at his heels.

"This, as you can see," said Anders, gesturing behind him as the Doctor stepped through the door, "is our lab."

The Doctor entered the lab at the same time a second guard stepped forward, holding a gun to match Torbjörn's. Not bothering to hide his expression of distaste, the Doctor stepped around the guard, inspecting the room. As labs went, it was very impressive. It was vast and well-stocked with technology to rival Torchwood's. Anders had not been lying about AIF housing items that could potentially be very dangerous--but the Doctor was not at all convinced that they were any safer in Anders' hands.

"Most of this is alien technology," the Doctor observed, eyeing the equipment suspiciously.

"Yes." Anders folded his hands behind his back and walked further on into the lab. "The unfortunate reality is that if we limited ourselves to technology developed on Earth, we'd have no chance against the enemy."

"'The enemy'?" the Doctor repeated, eyes widening. "What, the rest of the universe?"

"We don't look for fights, Dr Smith. We have no issue with aliens, provided they leave Earth alone."

The Doctor shook his head. "Not every species that comes to Earth is looking for conflict."

Anders paused, regarding the Doctor over his shoulder, his expression suddenly cold. Then he doubled back to the door, beckoning the Doctor again. "This is merely our defense technologies lab. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the biology lab. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

\--

The biology lab was even larger than the other one. The Doctor peered curiously at a shelf when Anders spoke again.

"Dr Smith, I'd like you to meet Dr Inga Lindkvist."

The Doctor turned away from the shelf to find a petite woman in a lab coat watching him skeptically. There was no smile on her face, and the Doctor couldn't decide if he found that more or less unnerving than Anders' eerie constant grin. The Doctor nodded in abrupt greeting, and she did the same.

"Inga is our lead scientific advisor," Anders went on, gesturing at the two as though he expected them to shake hands. Neither Inga nor the Doctor moved and Anders frowned slightly before continuing, "She's done some fantastic work for us in the past."

Anders turned to smile at Inga, but her eyes were fixed on the Doctor. She had a sharp, clever gaze, but there was something strange about the way she was watching him, like she was suspicious of and irritated by him all at once. It made the Doctor uncomfortable--or at least it might have, had it been possible for him to be any more uncomfortable than he already was.

The Doctor stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, looking around the lab. "I must say, it's quite impressive equipment. Where do you get your funding?"

"We have our donors."

"And the specimens?" asked the Doctor, looking from Anders to Inga. "Lab this size, you must have rodents somewhere."

Inga and Anders exchanged glances. Then Anders turned back to the Doctor.

"You must be a busy man, Dr Smith," he said. "Perhaps we should cut to the chase. We need your help." He smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid Inga will have to explain the rest; it's all a bit beyond me."

Inga nodded abruptly, and then turned on her heel and walked briskly down the corridor of the lab, her coat swishing behind her. "We've been running tests with a DNA scan, getting chromosomal readings for a variety of species." She weaved between desks and stopped when she reached a shelf full of binders and folders. She plucked one from the shelf and flipped it open, turning on her heel and thrusting it towards the Doctor. "We believe we've isolated an indicator in the fundamental DNA type that represents planet of origin."

She folded her arms across her chest when she finished, her brow quirked as though she was daring him to challenge her conclusion. Instead the Doctor looked down at the data in his hands, frowning.

It wasn't wrong. In fact it was rather brilliant, and by the standards of the old universe it was well ahead of its time, though the Doctor had come to accept that technological advancements in this universe were accelerated. It was the sheer _amount_ of data that surprised him--species after species, with planet after planet represented in a column of highlighted numbers. Wherever they found their money, AIF seemed to have no trouble finding alien DNA to test.

He opened his mouth to say something along those lines, but Inga pulled the binder out of his hands and spoke before he could. "We've also managed to manufacture viruses based on this indicator." She pulled a second binder from the shelf and opened it. "We have successfully created viruses which wipe out species from planets 583, 329, 942, 276 and 154. In all cases these viruses targeted species from the designated planet only. All other species exposed to the virus were unharmed."

The Doctor stared at the binder in her hands, light-headed for reasons that went well beyond being knocked unconscious. "The perfect weapon."

"Almost," said Inga. "All of these viruses take a long time to manufacture, and in order to create them we must have previously completed the DNA scan. For the species we've already cataloged, it's viable, but for new species--it could take weeks. Months." She closed the second binder, sliding it neatly back into place. "We believe there should be a way to reverse engineer it--create a virus which targets every species _except_ those from a specific planet of origin."

"All but Earth," the Doctor breathed, suddenly nauseous.

"Obviously." Once again, she crossed her arms. "Unfortunately we've not yet created a successful prototype. But we're convinced it's possible."

For a moment the Doctor was silent, staring in Inga's direction without seeing her. The trepidation and the fear he'd been feeling earlier were rapidly losing ground, giving way to an intense wave of fury. "And that's what you want me to do." He lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Biological warfare. You want me to help you create a virus that will wipe out anything that isn't native to this planet." He turned to face Anders and the guards and laughed, low and threatening. "That's not happening."

Anders took a step forward, an understanding frown on his face. "We're not looking to wage intergalactic war, Dr Smith. We're simply trying to protect Earth and its citizens."

"By _killing everything_?" the Doctor shouted, rounding on Anders. "Are you _insane_?"

Anders held his ground and kept his expression calm, though Torbjörn and the other guard stepped forward. "I assure you it would only be used when necessary, and with your help it would be completely harmless to the people of Ear--"

"For how long?" the Doctor demanded. "Until it mutates?" He gestured over Anders' shoulders to the two guards. "Even if you were just asking for tactical advice I'd have to decline because what you're talking about is systematic genocide and I'll have no part in that."

Though the Doctor had drawn himself up to his full height, Anders didn't move. "I think you might want to reconsider, Dr Smith."

The Doctor's lip curled in a sneer. "Threats aren't going to work on me."

The corner of Anders' mouth twitched in a near smile. "Are you sure you aren't willing to cooperate? Things will be much easier if you do."

The Doctor smirked. "Oh, you know me. Love the hard road. It builds character."

For a moment Anders regarded him with a silent calm. Then he nodded, every trace of a smile finally gone from his lips. "If you insist." He raised one hand and beckoned the guards forward with a flick of two fingers. "I do apologize."

The Doctor stood still as Torbjörn pulled his arms behind his back and snapped cuffs onto his wrists, his chin held high defiantly. "I hope you realize bringing me into this was a big mistake, because once I get out of here I'm going to stop you."

"We'll see about that," said Anders. "For now, I believe you wanted to see where we keep our specimens."

The muzzle of one gun pressed hard against the Doctor's back while the second guard grabbed the Doctor firmly under his arm. Anders stepped aside, his gaze drifting back to Inga.

"I suspect you'll have another planet to add to your catalogue very soon," he told her.

\--

Twenty-four hours. It had been twenty-four hours since the Doctor had disappeared.

Rose Tyler sat hunched over the table in Torchwood's biggest briefing room, sipping bitter coffee out of a paper cup. Her eyes were heavy and sticky with exhaustion and stress, but she suspected it would be a long time before she allowed herself a hot shower and real rest. Not until she knew what had happened to the Doctor.

Jackie had been the one to break up Tony's birthday party while Pete rushed into the office, babbling about getting in touch with local authorities and tracking down the CCTV feed. Rose almost hadn't known what to do at first. She'd gone back to their flat and dialled the Doctor's mobile, listening to it ring and ring. Surely if something happened, he would head back home first thing. But he never appeared and when Pete called to say Torchwood had their hands on the CCTV feed, Rose knew from the sound of his voice that it was bad.

At the head of the table, Pete dimmed the lights and switched on the front projector. "The CCTV footage is scrambled in places, like it's been tampered with, but we've pieced together what we can," Pete said. "This is what we know -" Rose leaned forward as he pulled up a picture of the Doctor in a car park with a cake box stuffed under his arm. Pete flicked to the next picture and behind the Doctor, five bulky men were closing in on him from behind. "We suspect the attack was planned and coordinated ahead of time."

The faces of the men were indistinct and Rose's voice was shaking when she asked, "Who did this?"

Pete clicked to the next slide. In it, the five bulky men had caught up to the Doctor and were overpowering him. One of the men pressed a white cloth against the Doctor's mouth - chloroform, Rose reckoned - while the others closed in on his sides. Pete snapped to another picture, this time to a truck speeding off in the distance, license plates caked over with dirt.

"Who did this?" Rose repeated.

"We can't say for sure," Pete said, "but the coordination, the technology needed to scramble this many CCTV feeds, the almost complete lack of witnesses... it all suggests AIF."

"AIF?"

Pete clicked to the next photo. It looked like the back entrance of some sort of military base. it was mostly hidden behind an overhang of trees, but a military vehicle was parked outside and two armed men were visibly standing guard in front of it. "AIF, the Swedish Department of Intergalactic Defence--a highly secret, very well-funded branch of the Swedish military, working out of Gothenburg. Their sole purpose is to protect Sweden from extra-terrestrial threats."

"So they fight aliens?"

"In a manner of speaking," Pete said. "But they're not like Torchwood, Rose. Their mission is to protect Earth from _all_ alien life. They've been rumoured to kill indiscriminately. Any alien lifeforms who surrender are taken as hostages and experimented on or tortured for information. All in the name of national security."

"Not at all like us, then," Rose whispered, beginning to worry her bottom lip. A bad feeling gathered in her stomach. "And you think that this group... this AIF, they kidnapped the Doctor?"

Pete nodded. "Yes."

Rose took a sip of coffee, the cup shaking in her hand. "What do they want with him?"

Pete cleared his throat and then shut down the projector, wincing as bright light filled the room again. Instead of replying, he sent Rose a long, apologetic look before taking a seat at the conference table. "I've sent word to our Ambassador, demanding that the government look into the blatant abduction of a British citizen, but I'm afraid it will be an uphill battle. The government refuses to officially acknowledge the existence of AIF."

"Do you think..." Rose began, swallowing hard, "have they killed him?"

"I don't know," said Pete, after a pause. He rubbed at his temples and then raised his head, trying for a reassuring smile. "I don't think they would have bothered to kidnap him if all they wanted was to kill him."

"Oh," Rose said, not pointing out that this wasn't reassuring in the least. She took a deep breath. "We'll have to get a team together," she murmured, "close in quickly - before they expect us. How much information do we have on them in Torchwood's database? Do you know their location? Can we pick up any more CCTV footage on the truck?"

Pete hesitated. "Rose, we can't just... go into another country and break into a military base."

Rose's mouth opened in surprise. "Of course we can. It's the Doctor."

"There are certain diplomatic channels that have to be explored -"

"I don't give a damn about diplomatic channels."

Pete stared at her for a moment before trying again, "We don't even have any _proof_ that AIF is responsible-"

"They kidnapped the Doctor in broad daylight, right under our noses. My _husband_ ," Rose spat. She pushed herself to her feet. "I'm not letting them get away with this."

"Rose, you can't just just... walk into a military base in another country!" Pete said, also jumping to his feet. "We don't even know who we're dealing with. I won't have you dragging my team on a wild goose chase."

"How can you _say_ that?" Rose demanded. "This isn't some wild goose chase - this is the Doctor! How many times has he saved us? Saved Mum and Tony? Saved the whole _universe_? And now you're just gonna abandon him 'cos it's the 'diplomatic' thing to do?"

"I'm not _saying_ that," Pete said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm _saying_ that we have to take this one step at a time. We contact MPs, get the Ministry of Foreign Affairs involved, maybe leak the story to the media. Meanwhile we'll gather as much information as we can, maybe plan a response." He paused. "We'll get him back, Rose. I promise you."

Pete stared at her with wide and sincere eyes, but Rose knew it wouldn't be good enough. She debated with herself silently for several moments and then forced herself to nod. "All right," she finally said.

Pete's eyebrows shot up. "All right?"

"Yeah," Rose said. She grabbed her handbag off her chair and picked up her coffee cup. "You've got regulations you've got to follow. I respect that."

"Really?" said Pete, sounding both baffled and just the tiniest bit suspicious.

Rose forced a smile. "I'll see you later, yeah? I'm going to try and get some rest. Call me if there are any changes."

"I will," Pete said, but he still looked bemused.

Rose left the conference room and shut the door behind her. There she paused, nibbling on her bottom lip as she considered her next move. First, she would have to hack into Torchwood's online file system and recover all their information on AIF. It wouldn't be too hard--she already had one of Torchwood's highest security clearances, and even if she couldn't access what she needed, she knew she could use her dad's account. And she would need weapons. She would need lots of weapons.

Pete and Torchwood had their way of doing things - she and the Doctor had theirs. 


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor’s feet dragged across the floor as two men hauled him into a dark and dingy cell. There, they released him and he collapsed onto the floor, barely managing to break his fall with his hands. The two guards left the cell, the door sliding heavily shut behind them.  
  
Outside the cell, the sounds of two voices, a man's and a woman’s, drew closer. The Doctor stilled, ears straining to listen.  
  
“He held up well under the shock therapy.”  
  
“Extremely well. I’ve never seen anything like it.” The woman’s voice paused. “He’s not human.”  
  
“No,” said the man’s voice, with something that sounded like a smile, “no, we were sure of that.”  
  
“Fascinating,” the woman murmured, “a man who looks human, but isn’t human. I’ll parse through the data we collected on him tonight. You’ll want to wake him for another round in a few hours?”  
  
“Yes,” came the reply, “he held up well today, but he’ll break. They all do. Nice work, Inga.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
The sound of clicking heels disappeared down the hallway. The Doctor braced his weight on his forearms and pushed himself up in a sitting position, gritting his teeth. He looked to the entrance of the cell and was unsurprised to find Anders watching him.  
  
They’d wanted him to hear their conversation, then.  
  
“I am sorry about this, Dr Smith,” said Anders. “Will you not reconsider our offer?”  
  
The Doctor scrubbed his hands over his face and then mustered up a smile. “Ooh, let me think.... no. Never.”  
  
Anders’ stare was hard. “Then we will have to keep torturing you until you change your mind.”  
  
The Doctor’s voice was steely. “Then you will torture me until I die.”  
  
"If you die, you'll never see that lovely wife of yours again."  
  
The Doctor shut his eyes, deciding against giving Anders the satisfaction of getting under his skin. He’d undergone his fair share of torture in 900 years—and so far AIF’s methods were nothing he couldn’t handle. Time Lords had ways of dealing with pain and so long as he knew Rose was safe, they could threaten him with whatever they liked.  
  
“Get some rest, Dr Smith,” Anders finally said, sounding slightly disappointed, “we’ll start again in a few hours.”  
  
The Doctor grunted in reply, waiting for a moment until he heard Anders walk away. When he was sure Anders was gone, he cracked his eyes open, squinting into the darkness of the cell. It was small and damp, with a cot pressed up against one side and a small bucket in the corner for waste. The door was a good three inches thick and locked with a palm scanner on the outside. There were no outside windows—the only light shone in from the bars covering the top of the door.  
  
Grunting, he used the wall to hoist himself to his feet, wincing as his dry and burned skin screamed in protest. He shuffled over to the cot and then lowered himself onto it. There, he rested his elbows on his knees, thinking. AIF’s facilities were certainly impressive. He reckoned that there were at least another twenty cells exactly like this one lining the outside doorway, containing at least as many other prisoners. Prisoners, the Doctor now knew, AIF was experimenting on and torturing.  _That_  was how they had collected their information. If he strained to listen, he could make out a low murmur of voices crying out in pain that seemed to be a uniform sound of distress for all species.  
  
He gritted his teeth. He  _would_  find a way out, and he’d make AIF pay for what they’d done.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut against a sudden wave of dizziness and then lay down on the cot, body beginning to go to sleep almost involuntarily. His thoughts drifted to Rose. It had been just over a day since he’d disappeared—surely she would have noticed. Was she safe? Would AIF have gone after her, too?  _They're only interested in aliens_ , he told himself. Rose was fine. She had to be. He couldn't allow himself to think about any other possibility.   
  
\----  
  
The door to her flat squeaked shut behind her and Rose shrugged off her knapsack - stuffed full of weapons she'd nicked from Torchwood - and it hit the carpet with a thud. Then, fighting off a wave of exhaustion, she sank into a chair at the kitchen table.  
  
She would get the Doctor back on her own. She had to. Besides, she'd built a dimension cannon, hadn't she? She'd travelled to another world to find him again. What was tracking down one part-Time Lord after that?   
  
Rose did her best to push the exhaustion away. If she could just  _think_...  
  
"But how do I  _get_  there?" she wondered aloud.   
  
A plane would be the fastest way - but it would be the hardest way to stay under their radar and surprise them.   
She bit her lip, thinking. Her eyes roamed restlessly over the empty flat before finding and settling on the Doctor's discarded coat, tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair. She felt a pang. They'd had that coat specially made for him a few months after he'd arrived on Bad Wolf Bay. It wasn't  _exactly_  like the original - the brown was a little darker and the cut a little longer, but it was as close as they could get. The Doctor had even been working on expanding the insides of the pockets.   
  
Feeling tears prick her eyes, she moved over to the coat and searched through the pockets until her fingers brushed the psychic paper he'd nicked from the TARDIS years ago. Feeling a small flash of triumph, she pulled it out.   
  
She would drive, then. She would rent a car and use the psychic paper at any border checkpoints. Her best shot at rescuing the Doctor was surprising them.   
  
Her plan was good, but she wouldn't be any help to the Doctor in her exhausted state. She hesitated - she could go back to the bedroom -  _their_  bedroom, but that would mean sleeping in their bed, on her own.  _Or_... she turned back to the coat and then, nodding to herself, she pulled it off the chair and dragged it over to the sofa. There, she lay down in a ball, pulling the coat over her like a blanket.   
  
She closed her eyes, breathing in - it smelled like hair gel and cut grass and sweat and something else that reminded her uniquely of the Doctor. Finally, Rose slept.   
  
\----  
  
The Doctor woke up strapped to an examination table.  
  
He opened his eyes slowly, expecting the darkness of his cell and finding a bright overhead lamp instead. He winced at the light and shut his eyes again, turning his head away and giving his wrists and ankles an experimental tug, unsurprised when he found them restrained. He ached all over, but with regular bouts of torture he’d begun to accept that as par for the course.  
  
Opening his eyes to squint at the counter top across from him, the Doctor tried to work out where he was and how he’d got there. It looked to be some sort of lab, one Anders had neglected to show him during the friendlier version of the tour. He closed his eyes again. The last thing he could recall was screaming in pain; he must have blacked out.  
  
That was bad—it meant he was getting weaker. It had been almost two days since the Doctor had anything to eat or drink, and though he was hardier than the average human, he could feel his body beginning to give under the stress. His body wasn't bouncing back as quick as it should be.   
  
AIF, meanwhile, was growing more impatient. They were giving him less and less time between rounds of "coercion" and the torture itself was getting worse. He was permanently exhausted; he needed rest to recuperate and he wasn't getting it. Each time they returned him to his cell he knew he  _ought_  to try and think up a way to escape, but he could never manage much more than dragging himself to his bed and trying to catch an hour or two of sleep.  
  
The Doctor blamed most of this on his human physiology. He was  _sure_  he'd been better at withstanding torture as a Time Lord. He still had more stamina than a human--enough to fascinate AIF, anyway--but by his old standards, he was positively weak. He wondered how likely it was that AIF would kill him by accident. One heart, no regenerations—the Doctor himself wasn’t sure where that line was, didn’t know exactly how much this new body could withstand.  
  
He swallowed, trying to push the thought to the back of his mind. He’d get out of here, somehow, eventually. Rose was waiting for him. There was always a way out. Usually.  
  
Something sharp pricked his arm, and the Doctor jerked his head up to see Inga taking a sample of his blood. She didn’t react as he flinched, and she kept her eyes trained on the needle as she spoke.  
  
“You’re getting weaker,” she said, her voice clinical and matter-of-fact. “You blacked out this time. Anders doesn’t think you’ll last much longer.”  
  
The Doctor didn't answer. Instead he craned his neck to try and watch her, irritated with his prone position. "A blood sample? Well, now you owe me a lollipop."  
  
Inga removed the needle from his arm, still not looking at him. "We would be happy to feed you if you were to cooperate."  
  
"Fish and chips for the low low price of mass genocide? I think I'll pass, thanks."  
  
Inga said nothing. She stepped away from the table and crossed to the countertop, her heels clicking. The Doctor strained his neck to watch her but eventually gave up, resting his head back against the table and doing his best not to dwell on how uncomfortable it was to be someone's lab rat. At least, he supposed, being Inga's pincushion for the moment meant that some other poor creature might be getting a few more moments of rest. He wondered how many others had been in this very room, terrified and powerless and alone. Most of them wouldn't even have the ability to communicate with their captors; they couldn't beg for mercy if they wanted to.  
  
The Doctor closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, curling the fingers of one hand into a fist. It was infuriating, being stuck there unable to help the people who needed it more than he did--  
  
Something else poked his arm again, and the Doctor twisted his head to see Inga sliding some sort of IV into his arm. Within a moment he could feel the liquid creeping up his arm, making it feel heavy and useless. It burned in his veins, a sensation that reminded him unfavourably of regenerating.  
  
"You're wasting your time cataloguing me," he told her, determined to stay conscious despite whatever drug she was administering. "My people aren't coming to tea, I promise you."  
  
"You're a fascinating man," she said. She moved behind him, beyond where he was able to see. "I'm curious about you. No perception filter, no shimmer, but on the outside you're physically indistinguishable from a human. How is that? Are you a shapeshifter?"  
  
"No. Actually, as it happens, we came first. This form really isn't as unique as you lot like to think."  
  
Inga's heels clicked back towards him, and she re-entered his line of sight pulling a large machine on wheels behind her. On the top of the cart sat a monitor, but she twisted the screen away from him just as he lifted his head to look. "It seems unlikely that two identical species would evolve on two different planets."  
  
The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "The universe is an unlikely place."   
  
"Still," she went on, adjusting settings on the machine as she spoke, "something must be different about you, inside. If you were human, you'd be dead."  
  
"Oh, no worries." He smiled tightly. "I'm sure you'll finish me off soon enough."  
  
Inga bent down, unhooking a couple of wires from the side of the machine. "We aren't trying to kill you. We're looking for your cooperation."  
  
"What, I design you a supervirus and then catch a first-class flight back to merry old England?" The Doctor laughed. "You kidnapped me because I'm a genius, do you really think I'm that daft? After all this, after I've seen what you do to people, you think I'd head on home and forget it ever happened? Oh, you'd  _have_  to kill me, we both know that."  
  
Inga glanced at him, meeting his eyes for the first time, and then quickly looked away. She straightened up, wires in hand, and the Doctor noticed with a sense of dread that the ends of the wires were sharp. He clenched his jaw and looked to the ceiling just as she plunged the first wire into his arm. He drew a deep breath as she fed the second wire into his arm, closing his eyes and determinedly keeping his face impassive. Compared to other things he'd been through in the last couple days, it felt more like a mild discomfort, and in any case he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing he was in pain.  
  
It was as she fed the final wire into his skin that she spoke again. "Is your wife an alien too?"  
  
The Doctor's eyes snapped open, a shiver creeping down his spine. He looked at Inga, who was staring at him with her arms folded. He didn't want to talk to her about Rose. He didn't want to  _think_  about Rose -- it made him panicked, wondering how she was doing, wondering if she was safe, wondering if he would get to see her again before he died. But he couldn't let AIF think of her as a threat, or as anything more than his rich blonde wife. He certainly couldn't let them think of her as a target -- or an alien.  
  
"No," he bit out. "She's human."  
  
He could feel Inga watching him curiously, her brow furrowed like she couldn't fathom the concept. "But she knows you're not human?"  
  
The Doctor said nothing, taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm himself. He couldn't keep talking about Rose; he couldn't let them know what Rose meant to him. Instead he turned his head to Inga, letting his upper lip curl. "It bothers you, doesn't it, the way I look? It's easier when they look different, when you can think of them as  _things_  instead of people. Things are easier to abuse, aren't they? It's easier when they don't speak your language, when you can ignore their cries of pain, when you can pretend they're too stupid to feel angry and frightened and alone." Inga stood a little taller, her arms dropping to her sides, but the Doctor continued. "That's why you're so desperate to find something different about me. You need something to point to and label 'alien' so that it doesn't bother you when I scream."  
  
For a moment Inga held his gaze, the mask of scientific indifference gone from her face. Then she turned abruptly back to the monitor beside her, feigning fascination with whatever she could see on the screen.  
  
The Doctor carried on, aware that his voice was trembling with rage. "The work you've done here is genius. You must be brilliant. You could do so many things -- you could be making medical breakthroughs, you could be working on cures for the sick, you could be helping people, and what are you doing? Designing better ways to  _kill_."  
  
"It's protecting people." Her voice was steady, but her hands shook as she adjusted the machine's controls. "That's what it's about, what we do here,  _protecting people_."  
  
"No it's not." The Doctor shook his head. "Those prisoners you've got, the people you torture, the ones you keep locked up, injured and dying and alone -- they're the ones who need  _protecting_."  
  
She didn't reply right away, and the lab fell into a silence matched only with their breathing and the hum of the machines around them. Then she stepped back, looking down at her watch. "It will be another forty minutes until these readings are complete," she said, her voice cool. "I have things to do." Without so much as a cursory glance, she turned and left the lab.  
  
The Doctor watched her go, his jaw still set in anger. He shut his eyes, trying to relax, trying to ignore the fresh pain in his arms and the pain lingering in the rest of his body. He tried very hard not to think about Rose or how desperately he missed her. It felt like such a terrible waste, all this time spent away from her.   
  
This new body had so few years left.  
  
\--  
  
Gravel crunched under the tyres of the jeep as Rose turned off the main road and pulled over. She was still a good click away from AIF, but she reckoned she would be less conspicuous if she approached them on foot.   
  
Exiting the car, she gave a long stretch and then rummaged through the back seat. She tugged on her gun belt and then strapped on as many weapons as she could - two taser guns (set to 'stun'), three tear gas cans, several explosives, and one of Torchwood's own circuit disrupters, designed to cut out a building's electricity. Finally, she stored her mobile phone under the front passenger seat in case something went wrong. At least then Dad and Torchwood would have some way of tracking down her location. Satisfied, she locked the jeep and stored the car key by the side of the road, behind a boulder.  
  
Then, adjusting her weapons belt, she set off down the road, moving at a half-jog. Despite the 16 hour car trip, she felt the adrenaline beginning to hit her system. The Doctor had been gone almost three days now - three days during which AIF could have been doing anything to him.   
  
If they'd killed him....  
  
Rose's chest hitched briefly before she got herself under control. Dad had said that AIF had wanted him for a reason - that meant he was probably still alive. But she also knew that the Doctor would never cooperate with them, and who knew how long AIF would be patient for?  
  
Putting on a burst of speed, Rose ran the last half-kilometre or so, only slowing when the base came into view. It was relatively unimpressive as far as military structures went - the entrance looked like the back garage of a fire station and the building was small and painted a dark green/grey that blended in with the surrounding shrubbery. Most of the base had to be underground, then.   
  
Rose hung back, hiding behind a nearby tree as she surveyed the place. There were a couple of guards outside the building, which either meant they had better security on the inside or they considered the chances of attack to be very low. Rose was hoping for the second one.   
  
She grabbed one of the tear gas cans out of her belt. She would take out the two guards first and then, after cutting the building's electricity, go in after the Doctor. She knew from past experience that the voltage disrupters did an excellent job - with a little luck, she might be able to rescue the Doctor and get back out before they even got their lights back on.   
  
Taking a deep breath, Rose ducked out from behind the relative safety of her tree.  
  
Once she was out in the open, she yelled, "Hey, boys!"   
  
The two guards looked over in surprise, but before they could react, she lopped the tear gas. They descended into coughing fits, one of them managing to get a shot off, which sailed harmlessly over Rose's head and into a nearby tree.   
  
Rose strode forward, now pulling out the stun gun. In two quick shots, both guards were lying prone on the ground. They would be out for at least two hours, but would survive.   
  
She pulled out the circuit disrupter and moved forward.  
  
\--  
  
The Doctor awoke suddenly from a deep sleep. He tensed, certain that Anders had come back to take him for another round of torture—but then a loud blast rocked through building, shaking the floor. A second later, the lights flickered and then blinked out.  
  
The Doctor was on his feet immediately, wincing as he stood. Part-Time Lord or not, AIF’s advanced examination techniques were increasingly effective.  
  
Gritting his teeth, he mentally willed his pain away and hobbled to the front of the cell. He pressed his face to the line of bars covering the window and looked out. The rest of the hallway was similarly bathed in darkness. Something must have cut the power to the entire base.  
  
Feeling a rush of excitement, the Doctor momentarily forgot his pain. This was it—his chance to escape. The cells opened from the outside, locked by the electronic palm scanner. But with the power down, he would bet Casanova five chickens that the lock was down too.  
  
He wrapped his fingers around the the bars across the window, grunting as he threw his weight into pushing. “Come on, _come on_ ,” he hissed to himself. He felt almost faint with relief when the door groaned and then slid open by several inches.  
  
He paused, heart hammering wildly in his chest. His hands were shaking when he placed them around the bars again, but he summoned his strength and pushed. The door slid open another few inches.  
  
Feeling motivated now, the Doctor moved to the opened crack in the door, just managing to squeeze one shoulder between the door and the wall. There, he pushed again, a bead of sweat breaking out along his forehead.  
  
Finally, panting and chest heaving, he was able to free his head. Squinting into the darkness of the empty hallway, he had just enough time to wonder why none of the other prisoners were attempting similar escapes when a torch light shone brightly in his eyes.  
  
He winced, momentarily blinded. A cold bead of sweat rolled down his back. “Who’s there?” he croaked.  
  
“Dr Smith,” came Anders’ cool and controlled voice, “did you honestly think we wouldn’t have a backup system in place?” He paused. “Most men in your situation would have given up all hope by now.”  
  
He removed the torch light from the Doctor’s face and the Doctor squinted, able to make out a handful of his goons flanked behind him.  
  
The Doctor’s heart sank. “What can I say, I was eager for another session with the esteemed Dr Inga. It’s starting to tickle.”  
  
Anders chuckled. “Oh, I don’t think there will be anymore need for that. Mattias?”  
  
A hand belonging to one of Anders’ goons clamped down on the Doctor’s shoulder as Anders punched in the code for the door. The door slid open and Mattias yanked the Doctor forward, grabbing both his arms in a vice grip.  
  
The Doctor fought a growing sense of dread. Was this it—the end? Had Anders finally grown tired of trying to coerce him into cooperating?  
  
Anders snapped his fingers. “How about some lights?” The overhead lights flicked back on, illuminating the hall in a bright glare. “There now, that’s much better.”  
  
The Doctor was momentarily blinded from the suddenness of the lights. Spots danced in front of his eyes as his vision cleared and he looked around—unable to muffle his sharp gasp of surprise.  
  
 _Rose_.  
  
It was Rose.  
  
They had Rose.  
  
He stared, frozen half in horror and half in disbelief as Torbjörn pulled her forward. Torbjörn had one, meaty hand clamped over her mouth, but she squirmed in his arms. Seeing the Doctor seemed to renew her desperation and she struggled to no avail, her eyes seeking out his.  
  
The Doctor’s next breath came out as more of a wheeze. No, this couldn’t be happening. Rose was supposed to be safe—she was supposed to be home and safe and far, far away from this.  
  
“We believe she was trying to rescue you,” said Anders mildly. He pulled out a tear gas can and an explosive, setting them each down at the Doctor’s feet. He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Surely Torchwood operatives are better trained than this. We expected an army to come after you—not a girl with some toys.”  
  
At that, Rose elbowed Torbjörn in the ribcage who made an “oof” noise, but kept his grip around her.  
  
Anders ignored her. “Now, Dr Smith, it’s very simple—you cooperate with us or we hurt your wife. Understand?”  
  
The Doctor tried not to let his growing horror show. “You don’t hurt humans.”  
  
“Well, we don’t know she's human for certain, do we? You look human, Dr Smith, just as your wife does. I am sure Inga would be happy to run some.... tests. For national security purposes, you understand.” Anders took a few steps closer to the Doctor, dropping his voice. “You remember those tests, Dr Smith, don’t you? How do you think your wife will hold up?”  
  
With great effort, the Doctor looked away from Rose and focused on Anders. “Run the tests,” he said. “She means less to me than you might think. Do you know what I like so much about this planet? Rich people. And the Tyler family has enough money to bathe in. Do the math, Anders. It’s not hard to figure out why I married her.”  
  
Anders’ eyebrows shot up, but it was Inga who answered. “I... I think he’s lying,” she said. She elbowed her way through Anders’ goons and came to stand at Anders’ shoulder, looking unusually harried and unsettled. “He’s just trying to protect her.”  
  
The Doctor flicked his gaze briefly over to Inga who shifted uncomfortably and looked away.  
“Marry into the Tyler family,” he only said, “what could be better cover on Earth than that?”  
  
Anders began to sound impatient. “Well there’s only one way to find out. Torbjörn, break her arm.”  
  
The Doctor had no time to react. Torbjörn grabbed one of Rose’s arms back and pulled. There was a snapping noise followed by her cry of pain. Her legs briefly gave out and she sagged back against Torbjörn’s massive chest.  
  
The Doctor instinctively jerked forward, only for Mattias to yank him backwards again. His jaw clenched down and he sought out Rose’s gaze, seeking some reassurance that she was okay.   
  
Her face was pale when her eyes met his and she tried to muster up a shaky smile. The Doctor felt sick.  
  
“Dr Smith, what’s your answer?”  
  
The Doctor looked away and didn’t respond.  
  
Anders walked over to Rose and wrapped his hand around her broken arm, pulling it out of its socket. Rose cried out against Torbjörn’s hand, face contorting in pain.  
  
“Stop!” the Doctor burst out. “Stop it, just... stop.”  
  
Anders ignored his pleas. “How many bones are there in the human body, Dr Smith? 206? What if we broke every one of them? One down—” he released Rose’s arm, but then grabbed Rose’s hand, pulling back her finger.  
  
“DON’T! Stop it,  _stop right now_.”  
  
The finger snapped and Rose cried out again. “Two down.”  
  
“He asked you to stop, Anders!” Inga cried, looking pale and unsteady on her feet herself. “She’s human.”  
  
“A human married to an alien,” spat Anders, but he released Rose. He took a few moments to collect himself and then turned around to address the Doctor. “This is your last chance, Dr Smith. What’s your answer?”  
  
The Doctor’s eyes were glued to Rose—silent tears rolled down her cheeks, but she shook her head at him. He mouthed “I’m sorry” in her direction and then turned to Anders.   
  
He wished he was the sort of man who could choose to put the good of the entire universe over one person. But he wasn’t. When it came down to it, he couldn’t bear to watch them torture her, entire universe be damned.  
  
He took a breath. “I’ll do it.”  
  
Anders’ eyes lit up with victory. “I knew I could bring you around.” He placed one hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. “I assure you, Dr Smith, your time with us will go far more smoothly now that you’ve decided to cooperate.”  
  
The Doctor put as much hatred into his glare as he could. “Get your hand off me.”  
  
Anders idly tucked up the corners of the Doctor’s collar and then drew his hand back. “Of course, Dr Smith. Is there anything else we can do for you?”  
  
The Doctor looked over Anders' shoulder and at Rose who was watching him with wide and desperate eyes. “Yes,” he said, “help her.”  
  
“Naturally,” said Anders and then, with a smug smile, added, “despite what you might think, we’re not monsters.”  
  
“No, most monsters I like.”  
  
Anders’ smile slipped, but Inga said, “I’ll look after her, Dr Smith, I promise.”  
  
Inga's gaze was sincere and the Doctor bit down a remark about entrusting his wife to the woman who had spent the better part of three days overseeing his torture. "Thank you," he managed stiffly.


	3. Chapter 3

Pete Tyler was exhausted by the time he stepped through the door into the mansion.

He'd been at the office virtually non-stop since the Doctor had gone missing, looking into diplomatic avenues long after Rose had gone home to rest. The process was shaping up to be a nightmarish maze of red tape, and Pete knew full well that the longer the official process took, the less likely it became that Rose would be willing to wait.

He sympathized with her, he did. He could imagine how anxious he would be if it were Jackie they'd taken, and he understood that the Doctor and Rose's separation anxiety was by no means unfounded. It certainly didn't help matters that all signs pointed to the Doctor having an unpleasant few days, and Pete knew his own worry for the Doctor was only a fraction of Rose's. He could remember all too well how he'd felt knowing Jackie was somewhere in the Cybus factory.

But both Rose and the Doctor had a habit of thinking with their hearts and not their heads, and it got them into trouble. They were the sort of people who tested the depth of water with both feet, and for every nine times they managed to swim, there was a tenth time when they needed someone to toss them a life preserver. It was his job, as a father and a friend, to try and stop them from drowning.

He leaned back against the front door once he shut it, rubbing his eyes with his hand. As if trying to rescue his son-in-law from a frightening paramilitary group weren't enough, Callie had told him just as he was leaving that some weapons had gone "missing" from Torchwood. Pete was beginning to worry that when he finally went to sleep his body would try to hibernate out of self-preservation.

He pushed himself away from the door just as Jackie stepped into the hall, looking almost as tired as he felt. "Oh, you're home," she said, sounding relieved as she stepped forward and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Any luck?"

"Not yet," said Pete, putting his arms around her and sighing. "It's going to be a hassle, trying to do this officially, but it's the best plan we've got."

Jackie pulled back, her mouth drawn into a frown, her hands still on his arms. "Rose must be worried sick. I am." Her tone turned cross. "You can't just _take_ someone like that, I don't care who you are, that's kidnapping." She sighed, all her anger seeming to give way to exhaustion. "Didn't Rose come back with you? You should have made her, I'll bet she hasn't slept since."

Pete shook his head. "No, she went home earlier, she..." He trailed off, staring over Jackie's head, suddenly feeling sick. Weapons were missing, Callie had said.

" _Oh_ ," he said finally.

" _Oh_? 'Oh' what?" Jackie watched him expectantly. "What's 'oh'? Pete?" Pete said nothing, still frozen in place, and Jackie folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Peter Alan Tyler, you tell me where my daughter is _right now_ \--"

Pete swallowed, finally meeting Jackie's eyes. "I'll have to scan for her mobile to be sure, but.... I _think_ she's in Sweden."

\---

They gave the Doctor a warm shower and a plate of food before locking him in the biology lab. A single camera blinked overhead, tracking his every move. He gave a few longing thoughts to his sonic screwdriver—and then pushed it from his mind. He would have to find another way to escape.

Inga’s carefully crafted research was laid out on a table for him and he idly flicked through her folders and notes before setting them down again. He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back, eyeing the table wearily.

He had no doubt in his _ability_ to do what they asked, but he was less certain he was actually _capable_ of it. What they were asking for was genocide—pure and simple. And they had put his finger on the trigger.

He closed his eyes, the crack of Rose’s broken arm ringing in his memory. Some of his earlier horror had given way to anger—how _could_ she? To just... just _walk_ into a heavily guarded facility on her own and give AIF the strongest weapon they could possibly wield against him? She had to know that he couldn’t bear to watch her suffer.

Even through his anger, a part of him recognized that if their positions had been reversed, he would have done the exact same thing. A part of him wished he was strong enough to sacrifice her—but in this human body, with his mortal lifespan, his instincts to protect her drowned out everything else. Rose came first and a part of him didn’t care that it came at the expense of the universe.

It was what it was, then. His only hope was that he could stall the weapon long enough to make an escape.

The door to the lab swung open and the Doctor looked over as Anders entered, his hands clasped behind his back. The Doctor studied him silently, trying not to let his feelings of revulsion and disgust show on his face.

The Doctor spoke first. “Where’s Rose?”

“She’s being looked after,” said Anders. He wandered over to the table, picking up one of Inga’s test tubes before setting it back down on the table.

“I want to see her.”

“I’m sure you do,” said Anders, picking up one of the folders. He rifled through it. “Don’t you see what we’re trying to do here, Dr Smith?” He looked over at him from above the folder. “We’re trying to protect our planet, our way of life.” He paused. “Don’t you remember what it was like when the Cybermen took over, when the stars began going out? The sheer terror, the _panic_ that followed? All we want is a way to protect ourselves. Never again will the human race be controlled by those from above.”

“This isn’t about protection, this is about _killing_ ,” spat the Doctor. “I can help you, Anders—I can build you a shield, I can work _with_ you. But this isn’t the way. Not like this.”

“I’m sorry that you feel that way, Dr Smith.” Anders snapped the folder shut. “I know what you’re thinking—maybe you can stall, maybe you can find a way to trick us. Please don’t try. It will go badly for you. And your wife.”

The Doctor flinched. “Leave her out of it, she’s innocent in this—”

“ _Innocent_?” said Anders. “She broke into our base. She married _you_.” The disdain was plain in his voice. He paused to collect himself and he continued in a mild tone, “You’ll want to make sure it works, Dr Smith. She’ll be our first test subject.”

The Doctor swallowed. “Weapon like this—based on DNA, it’s unstable, unpredictable, there’s no way to ensure that—”

“Well that’s your problem, isn’t it?” said Anders, voice cool. “If you want your wife to survive, you’ll do it correctly. It’s quite the incentive, no?”

The Doctor wasn’t particularly surprised by the veiled threat, but he still felt a cold chill. Anders was learning all the right buttons to push. They could threaten and torture him all they liked, but once _Rose_ was in the picture....

He thought carefully over his next words. Anders was a man who liked to be in control—he was _enjoying_ backing the Doctor into a corner. Demands wouldn’t work on him—he believed himself capable of mercy, but only if he was the one deciding to give it out.

“Can I....” he began, “will you let me see her?”

Anders smiled, looking pleased by the turn of events. “Of course I will, Dr Smith,” he said, almost kindly, “you help Inga finish her work and I will help you see your wife.”

The Doctor inclined his head. “I appreciate it.”

Anders tossed the folder back on the table. “I think we are finally understanding each other, Dr Smith.”

\---

Rose Tyler had one arm in a sling and two fingers taped together and she wanted to scream.

She sat on with her feet up on her cot, her back against the wall, scowling as she clenched and unclenched her fist. She hated being so helpless. People rarely made daring escapes with their dominant arm in a cast.

She was furious at AIF for what they were doing and even more furious with herself for getting caught. She'd done _worse_ than failed -- the Doctor was still trapped, and she'd given them another way to hurt him. Remembering the desperation on his face made her nauseous. The Doctor needed her and she’d failed him utterly.

Some knight in shining armour she was.

There was a click-clack of approaching heels, followed by the heavy groan of metal as her cell door slid open. The guard who’d broken her arm stood there, cradling his large gun, and beside him was the woman who’d reset her arm earlier, holding a tray of food.

“It’s fine,” the woman said to the guard, who stepped back and pulled the door almost closed. The woman stepped into the cell, silhouetted by the shaft of light, and lifted the tray. “Thought you might be hungry,” she said.

Rose’s stare was hard. She didn’t move. “Where’s the Doctor? I want to see him.”

The woman hesitated. “He’s… working,” she said eventually. She stepped closer to Rose, setting the tray down on the end of Rose's bed. “You’ll be able to see him when he’s finished.”

Rose’s stomach rumbled, but she ignored the food. “What have you been doing to him?” The woman looked uncomfortable but didn’t answer, and Rose pressed on, her anger rising. “He looked sick, when I saw him. Tell me what you _did_ to him!”

“He’s fine,” the woman stammered, looking startled by the shouting. “He’ll be fine, I mean, we weren't... he’s… he’s very… hardy.”

 _Hardy_ , Rose thought. _Yeah_. The anger melted out of her at once, leaving only an empty feeling of resignation. She snorted and shook her head. “He’s still mortal,” she said quietly. Sometimes she felt like she was the only one who really understood that.

Rose sighed, lifting her eyes to stare at the woman in front of her. She looked like she was barely keeping herself composed -- not quite the evil genius Rose had been imagining. "What's your name?"

"Inga," was the answer.

Rose nodded. "Right. One last question, then, Inga." She swallowed, already certain she was going to hate the answer. "What are you making him do?"

Inga pressed her lips together, her gaze travelling towards the shaft of light coming from the open door. "It's just a defense mechanism," she said eventually.

"Can't be." Rose shook her head. "If that was all it really was you wouldn't have to break my arm to get him to do it."

Inga took another step backwards, folding her arms over her chest and shaking her head, looking at the floor. "That's it. I swear, that's all it's meant to be. It's protection, that's all, it's _insurance_ , it's..." Inga broke off, taking a few shaky breaths and rubbing her hands over her face.

Finally she looked up, her eyes wide as she sought out Rose's. "You work for Torchwood. Surely you must understand. There are species out there with technology more advanced than the human race could hope to have in five hundred years. There are creatures like your husband who are more intelligent the day they're born than our cleverest scientists. Some species can teleport and we can't even get to Mars." She was breathing heavier, gesturing with her arms. "The human race is weak, and if it wasn't for AIF, we'd be sitting ducks. We can't afford to depend on the mercy of others. We have to be able to fight back. We're not looking to start wars, we're just trying to defend ourselves."

Rose let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "No, that's what we do. That's what Torchwood does. What _you_ do is kidnap people and torture them when they don't want to cooperate with their captors." Rose set her jaw, feeling her anger flare up again. "But the Doctor's a good man. A forgiving man. If you were really only looking to defend the Earth he'd help you, even if you did drug him while he was buying cake. What you want must be something else. Tell me what it is. Tell me why you broke my arm. Tell me what you're making my husband do for you."

There was a beat of silence as Inga hesitated. When she finally spoke she couldn't meet Rose's eyes. "We're looking to design a virus which will target any creatures not born on Earth."

Again it was silent as Rose let the words sink in. Finally she said, "That's genocide."

"It's a defensive--"

"It's _genocide_ ," she snapped. Her voice shook with cold fury when she spoke. "You kidnapped the Doctor and you tortured him because you want him to help you commit genocide." Rose narrowed her eyes. "Get out."

Inga looked like she didn't know what to say. "I..."

" _Get out!_ " Rose yelled, kicking the tray of food off the end of her bed. It clattered to the floor and Inga jumped backwards, watching Rose with wide eyes before she turned and hurried out of the cell. The door rumbled shut behind her and Rose glared at the spot where Inga had been. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this angry.

It was bad enough that they wanted a quick and easy way to dispose of all alien life. But that they were forcing the Doctor to do it _for_ them, leaving his over-taxed conscience to bear the brunt of the guilt... it was sick.

He'd do it, she knew he would. He'd do anything to keep her safe, even if she didn't want him to. He'd do it and he'd hate himself for it. He'd hate her, too, just a bit, for making him choose. And if, by some miracle, AIF let them leave alive, it would hang between them, a concrete example of just how far they'd go for each other.

Too far, maybe.

She pressed her hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stifle her sobs.  
\---

The Doctor worked methodically, losing himself in the mindless repetition of numbers and analysis, tests and results. He focused on taking the formula one step at a time rather than on its final result. Because every time he stopped, every time he paused to consider his next step, he remembered how it felt to single-handedly wipe out an entire species. He would think of the Time Lords and how he swore it would never happen again. Or he would think of Rose and the sound a human bone made when it snapped.

It was enough to drive anyone mad.

Except for the blinking of the camera tracking his every move, they more or less left him alone. After nearly six hours, Inga slipped silently into the lab, hanging back by the door and watching him work without speaking.

The Doctor tried to ignore her, but eventually he set down his work, saying, “Is there a problem?”

She looked startled. “Oh, it’s just... you haven’t used any of my research,” she said. “You’ve barely even looked at my folders—”

“You’ve been creating viruses that _target_ a specific species rather than ones that _exempt_ a species,” said the Doctor. “The only DNA code you needed was human. The rest are useless.” He picked up one of the folders—labelled “Weevil” across the front—and idly tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the opposite wall and spilled across the floor. Inga jumped. “Any idiot could figure that out.”

Inga didn’t seem to register the insult. In fact, she looked jumpy and on edge. Her hair was frizzy and out of place, her clothes wrinkled and her blouse inelegantly tucked into her skirt.

The Doctor kept his eyes on her as he spoke. “ _This_ is what you need—” he pushed a Petri dish at her—a dish where he was growing his version of the virus. “I haven’t _quite_ cracked the code yet. Give me—oh, another week or so? And it will kill anything.”

Inga stared at the dish. “Anything?”

“Yup,” said the Doctor, “anything from anywhere else.”

“Right,” said Inga. She paused. “So the research I did—the experiments....”

“As I said, useless.” The Doctor paused. “ _Well_ , I say ‘useless’—it did give you quite a good look at the people you plan to kill in the future, didn’t it?”

“They’re not people.”

“Oh, right, that’s never been used as a justification for genocide before.” Instead of pressing his point, he asked, “How’s Rose?”

Inga looked thrown by the change of subject. “She’s... she’s fine. Recovering,” she added. “I thought... what Anders did to her—that was wrong. She’s a human being.”

“And what about what you did to me?” the Doctor asked quietly.

“That was different,” said Inga, matching his quiet tone. “We’re just trying to protect ourselves—why is that so hard to understand?”

“Why don’t you spend an hour strapped to that chair you’re so fond of putting other species in and _then_ ask me why I don’t understand,” said the Doctor. Inga looked away, silent. The Doctor sighed. “Can I see Rose?”

“Anders said that if I thought... if I thought you were doing your job... then you could see her.”

“ _And_?” the Doctor asked impatiently. There was no response and he rubbed at his forehead. “I’ve done what you’ve asked. Please, Inga. Let me see my wife.”

Inga nodded and then looked at him. “We tortured you for days. We almost killed you—and you refused to give in. But as soon as we had Rose...” she trailed off. “You love her.”

The Doctor held her gaze. “Yes.”

“I didn’t think...” she stammered, “I didn’t know you were capable of love.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find that most species in this universe are very capable of love, Inga.”

Inga looked troubled, but she only said, “Two hours. Then you’ll go back to work. Understand?”

“Yes,” said the Doctor, incapable of hiding his relief.

Finally he would get to see Rose.

\---

Jackie Tyler was not like her daughter.

She certainly wasn’t like the Doctor. She wasn’t a hero by nature; she didn’t crave adrenaline and adventure the way Rose and the Doctor did. Most of the time she thought they were mental, the way they went chasing after aliens like it was fun hobby. She wasn’t even like Pete, who seemed to do these things because he felt he had to, like he owed the world something. No, Jackie Tyler would much rather sit at home with a nice cuppa than battle slime monsters from planet Zorg.

Still – sometimes, with a daughter like Rose, a husband like Pete and a mad alien son-in-law, there wasn’t much of a choice.

“Jacks, I’m telling you, you don’t have to come. We’ve got plenty of operatives—“

“Well, tough!” She folded her arms across her chest, giving her husband a very pointed Tyler stare. “I’m coming.”

Pete gave a harried sigh. “ _Jacks_ —“

“Don’t you ‘Jacks’ me,” said Jackie, poking him in the chest with one finger. “I’m not sitting at home pulling my hair out while you gallivant off to Sweden. I’m coming with you.”

He scrubbed his face with his hands. “It’s dangerous, Jackie. You could get hurt.”

“So could you! I went when the stars were going out, didn’t I? Did fine, didn’t I? Just gimme another one of those big guns, I’d like to see them try and stand up to _that_ —“

Pete dropped his hands and took her by the shoulders. “Jackie, listen to me. It’s dangerous. AIF is good. Very good. And they’re cruel.” Pete paused, squeezing her shoulders. “They could kill you, Jackie.” Underneath his exasperation, she could tell that he was terrified. “Tony needs you.”

Jackie’s glare softened, the corner of her mouth turning down in an understanding frown. She knew perfectly well how it felt, trying desperately to convince someone you love not to do something fantastically stupid. It was a fear she imagined most mothers knew well—even the ones whose daughters didn’t travel space and time.

“I know,” she said quietly. “But right now Rose needs me more, and I am not gonna let her down, not even for you.”

Pete was silent for a moment, studying her face, but then his hands fell away from her shoulders and he nodded, resigned. “Yeah.” With just a hint of a grin, he shook his head. “I see where she gets it from,” he said. Stepping back, he sighed and turned around, calling to one of his men. “Francis, make sure we’ve got room for Jackie.”

Francis sent Jackie a skeptical glance, but nodded anyway. “Yes, sir.”

Keeping her arms folded across her chest, Jackie stood and watched as Torchwood scrambled to get together a rescue plan. It was chaos, but it was progress, and it meant things were _happening_ , rather than slowly trickling through government channels. Diplomacy be damned, Jackie thought. Her family needed her.

Jackie Tyler was not like her daughter in a lot of ways, but in one respect they were identical: absolutely no one hurt the people they loved and got away with it.

\--

Rose Tyler had never felt so frustrated.

She had, of course, been held captive before—but usually with the Doctor next to her, and never for long. At first she had spent the time combing the cell, looking carefully for any weaknesses she could exploit. She hadn't come up with anything - but then, she hadn't had high hopes if the Doctor hadn't either. Then she had mashed her face up against the door, trying to get a good look at what was happening outside her cell. She saw enough to gather that the Doctor was far from their only alien prisoner. Periodically, AIF personnel—dressed formally in a white lab coat and accompanied by an armed guard—came to collect an alien prisoner, taking it god knows where before returning the prisoner to its cell a short while later, the alien usually much worse for the wear.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening in this place.

Eventually, the pain in Rose's arm became too much to bear and she went back to the cot, sitting with her back propped up against the wall and staring blankly ahead. She thought about the people AIF was torturing and how any government could stoop that low, but mostly she thought about the Doctor, where he was, and how much building this thing—this weapon—would cost him.

When the lock to the cell flicked, she came to life immediately. Inga walked in first—and behind her was one of AIF's typical goons with a gun, escorting in the Doctor.

Rose let out a muffled gasp and struggled to her feet, running past Inga and straight into the Doctor's arms. He emitted a soft "oomf" when she barrelled into him, but he cradled her to him, one hand stroking down her hair and the other rubbing her back.

"Let's go," Inga said softly and Rose barely registered the swishing of the shutting door behind her.

Rose felt tears pressing against her eyes - after days of being separated, after spending the last few hours worried sick about where he was and what AIF was doing to him - her relief at being able to hold him again was overwhelming. For a few moments, she only clung to him, unable to speak in case she broke down in sobs.

It was the Doctor who spoke first. He pulled away and then cradled her face between his hands, inspecting her closely. "You alright?" he said softly.

Rose almost didn't answer - underneath his concern, she could see a spark of something else. Having a sense of what would happen next, she found her voice and said, "Yeah. You?"

He released her and then took a step back, staring at a point somewhere over her shoulder. “Oh, I’ve been better.”

His voice was quiet and low, a sure sign that he was very, very upset.

“I’m sorry, I...”

“What were you _thinking_?” he suddenly exploded. “This is a highly guarded secret government facility. You can’t just... just _walk_ in on your own!”

"I wanted to rescue you."

"Oh, yeah, that went brilliantly," he said bitterly.

"I know, but I thought I could...." she trailed off, "I wasn't thinking. I was reacting." She paused, voice getting more strained. "I wanted you back."

He raked a hand through his hair, looking more and more on edge. "Do you have any idea what they're making me do?"

Rose hesitated before answering. "Inga said that you... that you were building a virus."

"A virus that will wipe out _everything_!" he snapped, voice echoing through the cell.

Rose took a startled step back and the back of her knees hit the edge of the cot. "I'm sorry."

"It's not just a virus, it's _me_ ," he said. "I'm making it happen. I'm committing genocide. Again." He chanced a look at her. "You shouldn't have come," he said. "Do you have any idea how much power you've handed them?"

She sank down on the cot, legs pressing together. "Doctor, I'm so _sorry_ ," she whispered, tears now beginning to flow. "I didn't know what would happen. I thought that... I was trying to help you.”

He stared at her and then rubbed the bridge of his nose, "I know," he said after a moment.

Rose wiped her eyes with her good hand, muffling a hiccup. “You would have done the same. How many times have _you_ tried to take down an entire military base on your own?”

“That’s different. _I_ know what I’m doing.”

“So do I!”

The Doctor opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to continue arguing, before he slumped his shoulders. In a defeated voice, he said, “I know you do. It’s not your fault.”

Somehow, his defeat was even more unnerving than his anger with her. "Can't you just tell them 'no'?" she whispered. "Am I really worth all that?"

His response was a long stare.

Rose stared down at her knees. "I wish you didn't think so."

The Doctor heaved a sigh and then the cot dipped as he sat down next to her. He turned to look at her, one hand coming up to touch her sling. "How's the arm?"

She shrugged. "I'll live."

He dropped his arm back down to his lap. "If I had the TARDIS...."

"I'll be okay." She bumped him in the shoulder. "We'll be okay, Doctor. We'll get out of here."

"Yeah?"

"We always do," she said firmly. She turned and studied him, eyebrows furrowing. “You look terrible.”

His lips twitched. “Oh, thank you.”

Rose felt like crying again. “What did they do to you?”

The Doctor hesitated. “Rose—”

“Tell me—please tell me.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t experienced before,” he said firmly, in that tone of voice that indicated he wanted to change the subject.

Rose shifted, reaching out to touch his chest—and he hissed and recoiled slightly. “They tortured you,” she said, voice beginning to shake. “And you think... if you don’t do what they want, they’ll do the same to me.”

The Doctor clenched his jaw. “They keep a running catalogue of alien species—oh, they keep records of the usual biological stuff, hearts, body temperatures, blood types, all that—but they also like running tests. Torture and recovery, hot and cold, tolerance to pain and medication—frankly I’m surprised they didn’t cut off a limb.”

“And that’s what they did to you.”

He nodded, and for the first time, Rose detected cracks in his usual stoic exterior. Whatever they had done had put the Doctor through more than he was expecting—both physically and emotionally.

She shifted backwards on the cot so that her broken arm was up against the wall and then patted the space next to her. “Come on,” she said, “lie down. You need rest.”

He hesitated. “Rose, we need to—“ he looked around suspiciously, as though he suspected that AIF was watching their conversation carefully (which, Rose reckoned, they probably were), “—we have to find a way out of here.”

“We will,” she said, “but you need to rest, yeah? We can’t do anything if you’re falling apart on your feet. Come on, Doctor—please.”

Her words seemed to get through to him. He stretched out next to her, head resting next to hers. His eyelids fell shut like he was only just realizing how very tired he was.

Rose wrapped her good arm around him, shifting closer so that she could cuddle into his side. He breathed out against her neck, a shaky and unsettling sound, but then his hand brushed her back before stilling. Slowly he began to relax.

“How long have we got?” Rose whispered.

“Oh... about two hours?” said the Doctor. He paused and then said, “Rose, I’ll find a way to get you out of this, I promise. I won’t let them hurt you.”

 _I wish you would_ , she thought about saying, but didn’t. Right now, the idea that he still had some measure of control over her safety seemed to be giving the Doctor some comfort and she didn’t want to ruin it.


	4. Chapter 4

“I don’t get it,” Anders announced, flipping his palms upward before he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. He said it flippantly, like he was offering his opinion on a puzzling piece of modern art, but Inga knew him well enough to hear the hint of frustration and befuddlement in his tone. He didn’t get it, and he _hated_ that.

Inga, on the other hand, was beginning to suspect the answer was a lot simpler than she wanted to admit.

She leaned forward over Anders’ shoulder, studying the screen in his office where he was watching the feed from the surveillance camera in Rose Tyler’s cell. Rose and her husband—her _alien_ husband, Inga reminded herself—were squeezed together on the tiny cot. They were curled up together as best they could manage, and they were sound asleep. Reunited after being separated for days, and they were just... sleeping.

Inga looked away from the screen, feeling uncomfortable. They were just sleeping, but she felt like she was watching something incredibly private. She supposed she was.

"He's not even human," Anders went on, shaking his head, the disgust evident on his face. "That's like... bestiality."

"Well, they're physically compatible," Inga reasoned, though she flushed at the look Anders sent her. "I just mean..." She cleared her throat, looking back at the screen. "Nevermind."

Anders regarded her skeptically for a moment, one eyebrow raised, and then he shook his head. "You need to get out of the office more often. It's doing your head in." He gestured towards her rumpled blouse and wrinkled skirt. "Look at you."

Instantly feeling self-conscious, she reached up to try and flatten her hair. "Yeah," she agreed quietly. She looked down at herself, straightening her skirt. "Listen, I was wondering--"

"When was the last time you took a day off?" Anders pushed himself away from his desk, rolling his chair over to another set of drawers and rooting around in them.

Inga blinked. "I'm... not sure," she conceded, thrown by the question. "Anyway I was wondering... what happens when the virus is finished? I mean, what do we do with them?"

Anders didn't pause to think or stop what he was doing. "Kill him," he said simply. "He's an alien, isn't he?"

It was the answer she was expecting. What she hadn't anticipated was how uncomfortable that answer made her. "And her?"

Anders glanced over at the video feed, his gaze inexorably drawn to Rose Tyler. "We'll help her."

Whatever Inga had been expecting, it wasn't that. "I'm sorry?"

Anders' smile was patronizing as he returned to rooting through the drawer. "We've seen this sort of thing before, Inga. Women who become inexplicably infatuated with aliens - either because they've been brainwashed or drugged or both. You did say he was a low level telepath, correct? We have a duty to Rose Tyler; just like we have a duty to everyone else on this planet."

"Well... yes, I understand that, but...." Inga trailed off, not quite sure how to tell him that she strongly doubted Rose Tyler's feelings had anything to do with being brainwashed. She finally settled on, "And if that isn't the case? If she really does love him?"

"We'll kill her too, of course -" he slammed the top drawer shut and began rifling through the middle one, "I _know_ I put it here somewhere..."

Inga frowned. "Anders, she's human. She's famous, she's rich, she's an heiress, we can't just kill her, people will notice--"

"She's eccentric. Appears out of nowhere in her twenties with her dead mother, shuns the media, marries a nobody who _also_ appears out of nowhere..." He waved a hand. "So she drops off the face of the Earth again. By the time her family can convince the world they ought to care the bodies will be long gone. They can't prove anything. Besides, it's better than sending her home to rally the troops or talk to the media."

"That's making a lot of assumptions." She paused. "I could drug them. Both of them. Modify their memories. They wouldn't even know--"

"Too risky, especially with him... aha!" Evidently having found what he was looking for, Anders stood and turned to face her. She met his eyes hesitantly and he frowned, tilting his head. "You've gone soft on me, Inga."

She felt a flash of anger and drew herself up, straightening her shoulders. "I didn't start working here so I could kill people, Anders."

Both his eyebrows rose up, and for a moment she thought he was going to shout. But when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly soft. "No," he said after a moment, nodding. "Of course not." He gave her a small smile. "I'll do my best to help the girl, I promise you."

The way he said it was not the least bit comforting. Inga opened her mouth but hesitated, unsure what to say, and Anders took the opportunity to shove something into her hands.

"Hockey tickets! Next Saturday!" he explained, his tone light again. "You've been working too hard, Inga. You deserve some time off."

Inga stared at the tickets in surprise, running her thumb over the barcode. "I... thanks..."

Anders smiled. "Not at all." He lifted his wrist, checking his watch. "Two hours and five minutes," he said. "Naptime's over, back to work." With that, he turned and left the office.

Inga watched him go, then looked down at the tickets in her hands. She looked back at the screen where she could still see Dr Smith and his wife, curled together. Biting her lip, she shoved the tickets into a random drawer on Anders' desk and hurried out of the room.  
\--

Rose was beginning to find that being held captive against her will— _and_ with a broken arm—was more than a little boring. For the most part, AIF paid her little attention—she only saw other people when they brought her meals or escorted the Doctor in and out of the cell for his scheduled rest breaks.

So when Anders appeared at her cell holding two mugs of tea and with one of his goons carrying a plate of biscuits, she was immediately curious, if a little wary. The big boss himself paying her a visit was at least more interesting than pacing the cell while she worried about the Doctor and wondered when—and if—they would bring him back to her.

“Ah, Ms Rose Tyler,” he said, by way of greeting, smiling in a polite and charming way. “You remember Torbjörn, yes?”

“Right, the bloke who broke my arm,” said Rose, “I have a vague recollection.”

“Excellent.” He moved into the cell, surveying her up and down in a way that made Rose’s neck prickle uncomfortably. He held out one of the mugs. “Tea? I’ve heard it’s quite the British custom.”

Rose stared at the mug of tea like it might bite her. “No thanks.” She paused. “But I will take a biscuit.”

Anders looked pleased. “Torbjörn, you heard her.”

Torbjörn offered the plate of biscuits to Rose who took the top one with her good hand, munching on it as she stared at Anders speculatively. “What do you want?”

“I came to see how you’re getting on, of course,” said Anders. After hesitating, he set both mugs of tea down on the floor of the cell. “I want you to think of yourself as a guest.”

Rose took another bite of the biscuit, idly wiping away some crumbs on her chin. “Funny, I don’t usually lock my ‘guests’ in cages and torture their husbands.”

Anders didn’t look particularly put out by the retort. “I am sorry that we couldn’t meet in better circumstances, Ms Tyler. I have wanted to make your acquaintance for some time.”

Rose snorted. “Sorry for finding that hard to believe.”

Anders smiled patiently. “You have quite the impressive resume, Ms Tyler,” he said. “Vitex heiress, high-ranking Torchwood agent, _and_ beautiful at that. Why wouldn’t I want to meet you?”

Rose shifted, blushing under his intense scrutiny. Instead of responding, she reached for another biscuit, filling the silence with the sounds of chewing and swallowing.

Anders took a step closer to her, eyes flicking to the cast on her arm. “How are you feeling today? Inga tells me that the arm should heal just fine—good as new.”

Rose stared at him. Was he _seriously_ trying to engage her in small talk? Instead of answering, she said, “Where’s the Doctor?”

A mild frown wrinkled his otherwise congenial smile. “He’s occupied.”

“You mean he’s building that thing—that weapon.”

“It’s only a defence mechanism, I assure you,” said Anders, now in a frostier tone.

“When are you bringing him back here?”

“Later.”

“You can’t just.... keep doing this to a person,” Rose pressed, her voice beginning to shake. “You’ve been torturing him from days, he needs rest, he needs—“

“I said _later_ ,” snapped Anders.

Rose flinched at his tone and Anders took a deep breath like he was mentally willing himself back together.

He considered her for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “A warm shower. That’s what you need, isn’t it? How shameful of us not to have offered you one earlier.”

Rose hesitated—as much as she didn’t want to accept _anything_ from AIF, the idea of a warm shower did sound nice. “Yeah, okay,” she finally said, “thanks.”

\---

Anders led her through AIF’s winding corridors, Torbjörn following behind them. He kept one warm hand on Rose’s back and she fought the temptation to wiggle away. It was obvious that he was enjoying having her as a captive audience.

“As you can see, our technology is far more advanced than what you have in England,” he said, leaning in close enough so that his breath tickled her ear. They came to a door and he held his free hand up to palm scanner. His other hand rubbed in a circle at her back and he escorted her through the door as it swished open. “That’s Torchwood’s problem—they’ve opened their records up to the public. And politicians bow to the will of the taxpayer even when it’s not in the best interests of the country. That’s the benefit to being secret, Ms Tyler. We have far more support from our government and I think, you will find, a far higher success rate.”

“Depends what you count as a ‘success,’” Rose said. “Kidnapping and torturing people isn’t the definition in my dictionary.”

“Our methods might appear extreme to some, but everything is done with a single purpose in mind—protecting Sweden and the world from the alien threat.”

“Yeah, but not all aliens are bad,” said Rose, “can’t you see that? You’re not helping anything by hurting them—how long can Earth survive if we tear down everything in our path?”

They came to another door. Beyond it, Rose could make out the shape of latrines and what she assumed was individual shower stalls. Instead of opening the door, Anders stopped and turned to look at her, his gaze dark.

Rose was beginning to regret agreeing to the shower field trip.

“He has done a number on you,” Anders murmured. He reached out, thumb stroking her cheek and Rose hastily backed up, banging onto the opposite wall. Anders’ gaze filled with pity. “If he’s done something to you, Rose—if you’re frightened, scared of him... we can help you. There might even be room for you here with us.”

“Oh my god, you can’t be serious,” she said even as the look on Anders’ face told her he was _very_ serious.

“We’ve seen these cases before,” he said gently, “our experiments have revealed that Dr Smith is at the very least a low level telepath. You might not even be aware of his control.”

Rose’s jaw dropped. “That’s not....” she said, “he would never.... I married the Doctor because I love him. That’s it. That’s the only reason. And believe me when I tell you that much bigger forces than you have tried to split us up before.”

Before Rose could react, Anders’ arms shot out, pinning her to the wall. She yelped as her broken arm banged into solid concrete.

“Then you are a _traitor_ ,” he spat, his eyes suddenly sparking with something that was wild and uncontrolled. “You are _nothing_.”

“Boss—” began Torbjörn.

“Shut up,” Anders yelled over his shoulder. Torbjörn took a step back, silenced.

Anders' thumbs dug into the flesh of Rose’s arm, his breath panting on her face. “Tell me, Rose, how does he make you touch him?”

Rose swallowed hard and didn’t answer. Anders moved in closer, shoving her up against the wall with more force. “What sort of debasing acts has he made you do?” he spat. “What degrading, alien favours do you do for him?”

A sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead. “I just want to _understand_ ,” he rasped. “TELL ME!”

Rose mutely shook her head, feeling tears press against her eyes. Anders shook her one last time until her head snapped back, cracking against the concrete of the wall. Stars exploded in front of her eyes, but she remained silent.

Finally, with her broken arm screaming in pain, Anders’ grip loosened and then he released her. She stumbled and then leaned heavily against the wall, trying to get her breath back

Anders pressed his hand to the palm scanner and the door lid open. “I believe you wanted a shower, Ms Tyler,” he said, his voice mild once again.

With as much dignity as Rose could muster, she walked through the door, Anders right behind her.

\---

Anders didn’t speak again until they came to a row of shower stalls. “You’ll have ten minutes—no more,” he said. “Get undressed.”

Rose stared at him. “Right here? In front of you?”

“I will be here the whole time,” said Anders, his lips pulling up into a smirk. “I can’t leave you unguarded. Surely you must understand why.”

“Then you can forget it,” she said, “I’m not gonna stand there and shower with you watching. I'd rather die.”

She could tell right away that she’d struck a nerve. She tensed, waiting for him to assault her again, but he only said, “If you would prefer Torbjörn to—”

“Yes,” said Rose.

Anders looked taken aback. “You would rather have Torbjörn—the man who broke your arm—than me?”

“Yeah, I would," said Rose. "And you know why? Torbjörn was just following orders, but you.... I've seen a lot of aliens in my time, and none of them even come close to what you are."

In two short steps, Anders closed the distance between them and slapped her clear across the face. The sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the room and Rose stumbled, catching herself on the shower before falling.

Anders was breathing hard when he said, “We’re going to kill him, Ms Tyler. That virus is just delaying the inevitable. As soon as it’s finished, he will be gone and the world will be a better place for it. Torbjörn!” he hollered. “She’s all yours.”

Torbjörn appeared immediately, gun slung over his shoulder. “Tell Inga I want that virus finished now," he barked. "I want that man dead."

Without another word, he stalked out of the shower room. Rose breathed a sigh of relief once he was gone, gingerly pressing her fingers to her cheek. She hissed at the ensuing sting.

Torbjörn looked faintly embarrassed by his boss’s behaviour. “I have to... um....” he gestured at her and then blushed a deep red colour.

In another situation, Rose might have been amused at the giant Swede who had broke her arm getting flustered at the prospect of seeing her naked. As it was, she mustered up a reassuring smile. “I know. So I don’t hatch a dastardly escape plan, got it.”

“I... um... I did bring you this,” said Torbjörn. He held out a plastic bag and then inclined his head towards Rose’s arm.

“Right, keep the cast dry.”

She took the plastic bag and then slowly stripped off her clothes. To his credit, Torbjörn made an effort to keep his eyes above her neck, but Rose still felt incredibly self-conscious as she stepped into the shower spray. She winced as the water hit her now battered body and she twisted around to examine a purple bruise forming on her good arm.

The last thing she wanted was to give the Doctor another reason to worry about her. It was bad enough he’d agreed to built that weapon because of her. And now Anders had promised to kill him....

Even with the warm water pounding down on her back, Rose felt chilled. Anders believed—he _really_ believed in what he was saying. Everything alien was evil—including her because she had chosen one of them over him. But in coming to the Doctor’s rescue, she had inadvertently hastened his demise.

Some wife she was. She closed her eyes under the hot spray as the first of her tears sprang into her eyes.

\---

The Doctor had told Inga it would take one week to finish their weapon. The reality was that it would probably take a great deal _less_ time. The genetic modification itself wasn't that hard - AIF had handed him their formula and he'd worked in the human DNA code. No, what was hard was pretending like he was immersed in a terribly complicated process that would take days to unravel.

He had no doubt that they would kill him as soon as the virus was finished. It wasn't exactly the most inspiring incentive in the book. But as long as they released Rose... as long as there was a chance that she could fight back...

He looked up when the door to the lab swished open and Inga entered. She had a clipboard tucked under one arm and a pair of spectacles pushed smartly up her nose.

"How is it coming today?" she said briskly, coming over to inspect his work.

She picked up the petri dish and a few of his scrawled notes, eyebrows knitting together as she concentrated. The Doctor eyed her wearily - she looked more rested and alert than she had in days. Her fingers tapped the sides of the page as she flicked through his work.

"Oh... oh dear," she murmured and the Doctor tensed, but she set the notes down. She turned and gave him a long look. "It looks like it will be a few more days at least."

The Doctor opened his mouth - ready to protest - before her words sunk in. He gaped at her, but she stared steadily back at him. "Yes," he finally said, "at least."

She heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose it is a lot of work."

"Oh, it is." He paused and then added, "But it will get done."

"I have no doubt of that," Inga said coolly. "Now come along. Best keep you rested."

She turned, and after hesitating a moment, he followed her. She hit the palm scanner to leave the lab, turning to Mattias who was guarding the door. "Dr Alfredsson needs you in the biology wing with the Weevil family."

Mattias shifted his gun over his shoulder. "But Anders said the prisoner is to be watched at all times."

"I have combat training," said Inga. "And we have his wife. I'm sure he'll cooperate. Won't you, Dr Smith?"

"Oh, absolutely. Best behaviour."

Inga smiled winningly at Mattias. "There, you see? All taken care of. Come on, Dr Smith."

She took off again and the Doctor followed, sending Mattias a wave and a lift of his eyebrows as they went past him. He clasped his hands behind his back as he followed Inga down the halls. She was almost jogging, her lab coat billowing out behind her as she went.

"What's -" he started, but she stopped suddenly and he had to dodge around her to avoid crashing into her back.

"I almost forgot," she said loudly, "I have something that should help speed up your research. I've been working on the code myself." She turned and pressed something into his hand, enclosing his fingers around it fully before taking off again. She added softly over her shoulder, "Be careful with it. Wait for the right time."

The Doctor didn't have to look down to know that she'd just given him his sonic screwdriver back. He opened his mouth to demand answers before deciding against it - it was clear that Inga was operating under the assumption that they were being watched or listened to. Or both.

As inconspicuously as possible, he slipped the sonic screwdriver into his suit pocket. Was it possible that she was actually trying to help him? Or was this simply another trick - another way to toy with him to see how far they could bend him?

Finally they reached the cell. Inga pressed her palm to the scanner and the door slid open, revealing a tense Rose on the other side. She relaxed slightly when she saw who it was.

"Oh, it's _you_ ," she said, her eyes on Inga and the contempt obvious in her voice.

Inga's shoulders stiffened slightly and the Doctor shook his head in Rose's direction, hoping to indicate that it wasn't the time.

But Rose wasn't having any of it. "Your boss paid me a visit this afternoon," she spat in Inga's direction. "What a lovely man. You've really scored the jackpot with that one."

"He did _what_?" said the Doctor.

"I'm sorry for that," said Inga sincerely, "and every other way we've treated you. It wasn't right."

Rose looked like she didn't quite know how to respond to that, but Inga didn't wait for an answer. Instead she bent down in front of the cell's electronic palm scanner, muttering under her breath.

The Doctor barely registered Inga's actions. "Anders came here? When?"

"It was a few hours ago," said Rose, "after they took you away again. He... said some things."

"What things?"

"It was nothing I couldn't handle, yeah?" said Rose, but the Doctor could tell that whatever happened had got under her skin. She swallowed, eyes meeting his. "Don't finish the virus, Doctor. Please."

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, Inga cursed and then yanked the palm scanner out of the wall. The wires sparked as she pulled at them. "Dr Smith, I could really use your help, if you'd be so inclined."

"Oh, right," he said. He pulled his newly returned sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and then bent down next to her. "There?" he said and she nodded. He buzzed the screwdriver at a red wire, which burst into a shower of sparks. A second later, the lights flickered out and they were plunged into darkness.

"That should do it," said Inga, with satisfaction. For a moment, the Doctor couldn't see anything at all, but then Inga flicked on a torch, illuminating the cell in a soft glow of light. She waved the torch in Rose's direction. " _That's_ how you cut the power to a military base."

Rose looked like she was considering the best way to throttle Inga with one arm, so the Doctor carefully stepped between the two women.

"You'll need this," continued Inga, pulling out a second torch. "The power will be out for about fifteen minutes so you'll have to hurry."

The Doctor and Rose exchanged a look. "Hang on," said Rose, "you're helping us? You're letting us go?"

"Yes," said Inga.

"But why?" said Rose. "I thought you really believed in all of this stuff - that locking up aliens and experimenting on them was for the good of everyone."

"I want to help protect the Earth, Ms Tyler," said Inga sharply, "but I have no interest in killing innocent people."

"About time you learned something, then," said Rose, in a hard voice. She moved around the Doctor and took the torch. "Doctor?"

He didn't move. "I can't imagine that AIF takes too well to betrayal."

"I'm not betraying anything," Inga said. "We have enough of that weapon built to proceed with it. I've already set this corridor's video cameras on a delay - as far as Anders will know, you'll have escaped on your own."

"And then you can go back to it - burying your head in the sand and making excuses for your torture and cruelty." The Doctor stepped closer to her. "Even if they don't look like me - even if they don't look human - that doesn't mean that they don't have feelings, wives, families. I can't just abandon them."

Inga looked shaken, but she only said, "You're running out of time, Dr Smith." She dropped her voice. "I won't help you a second time."

"Come with us," said the Doctor, "help us bring this whole place down - free the species being held captive here. Inga Lindkvist, you have _such_ a brilliant mind. Think of everything you could do - all the people you could help. And you're going to choose to stay down here, under Anders, building a weapon that will wipe out everything?"

"I believe in what I do."

"Do you? Do you really?"

She hesitated. "I _thought_ I did..."

" _Doctor_ ," Rose hissed, "we have to go _now_."

"Come with us," said the Doctor again. "You won't regret it."

"I...." she trailed off and then hung her head, "I can't."

The Doctor felt a wave of crushing disappointment, but then Rose looped her arm around his, practically yanking him out of the cell.

"It's her choice," Rose said. "That's not on us. Now come _on_."

Together, they ran down the hall. 


	5. Chapter 5

It was hard to run with one arm in a sling, Rose quickly learned. The Doctor, too, was having difficulty; he was winded well before he typically would have been. Rose couldn't help watching him with concern as they ran. She'd never seen him so beaten up and whenever she thought about what had been done to him she was torn between wanting to scream and wanting to cry.

She closed her eyes and gave her head a quick shake before focusing down the hallway again. She'd have time to worry about that once they got out of here.

"I don't know which way it is," the Doctor said, looking around as they ran. He skid to a halt when they reached a fork in the corridor, looking both ways, his chest heaving. "We're underground, there must be stairs somewhere."

"There's a staircase somewhere. Locked," said Rose, flashing her torch down one hallway and then the other. "The upper level's not very big, I think I saw most of it when..."

"Right." His free hand flew up to his hair, ruffling it nervously. "I don't _know_. I know where their labs are--" he gestured behind them with the torch "--but I don't know where the exits are, they've never _shown_ me the exits. When I was a Time Lord--"

"This way," said Rose, picking a direction arbitrarily and jogging down it. They definitely didn't have time for the Doctor to have an identity crisis.

They reached a door, and the Doctor pressed his ear against it, listening. The beam of light from his torch bounced up and down along the wall, and it took Rose a moment to realize that his hand was shaking. She shone her torch on him, horrified to find his whole body was trembling. Rose fought back a creeping sense of fear.

"Doctor..."

"I'm fine," he said briskly. Then, evidently satisfied with what he heard on the other side, he swung the door open and took off down the next hallway. " _Allons-y_!"

Rose was close behind him, scanning the walls on either side with her torch as some of her fear gave way to relief. "This is good," she said, overtaking the Doctor who was outright panting now. "This is good, this is familiar, I think they brought me through here when they were taking me to you, which must mean..." She ran a little faster, spurred on by the sudden burst of hope. "I think there's a stairwell up ahead," she called back. "I can't see it yet but it shouldn't be much..."

It hit her very suddenly that she could only hear the sound of her own footsteps. Whirling around, she scanned the hallway with her torch. "Doctor...?"

She found him leaning against the corridor wall, his breathing laboured. "I'm fine," he croaked as soon as she stepped forward, motioning her away with his hand. "Keep going. I'll catch up."

As if to prove his point he shoved himself away from the wall and started towards her--but he swayed on his feet and stumbled, sagging back against the wall again with a hiss of pain. He managed another step as she ran towards him, then fell to the floor, his free hand still clutching the wall.

Rose sank to her knees as she reached him, dropping her torch in favour of running her hand through his hair. His breathing was heavy, and she could feel him shaking.

"I'm fine," he insisted again, his voice tight with pain. "I'll be fine, keep going, I just need to catch my breath. This body, it..." he paused, breaking off as he tried and failed to pull himself to his feet. "...doesn't recover fast enough."

Rose bit her lip, running her hand down the side of his face, trying not to let her voice betray how scared she was. "It's okay. Take a rest. We'll keep going again in a minute."

The Doctor shook his head. "No, you need to keep--"

"Don't be stupid." She stood up, trying to loop her good arm under the Doctor's. "Come on, I'll help you up."

The Doctor seemed reluctant, though he didn't argue. With her arm under his and his arm over her shoulder, Rose managed to hoist the Doctor to his feet. The weight hurt Rose's sore shoulder, but she gritted her teeth, determined not to let him know that. They managed a couple steps like that, the Doctor bracing himself against the wall.

"I'm slowing you down," he murmured, in that defeated tone from earlier which terrified her. "We don't have time. Rose..."

"Don't say it," she insisted stubbornly. She could feel him slipping and tightened her grip on his shirt. "It's not that far. We'll be fine. You can rest in the car."

"I can't..." he started, but broke off as he stumbled and pitched forward. With only one good arm, Rose couldn't catch him, and he landed on his hands and knees, his torch clattering to the ground and rolling away.

" _Doctor_!" Rose knelt down next to him instinctively, her arm around his back as the Doctor heaved himself into a sitting position. "Are you all right?" She scrambled to the side, picking up his forgotten torch and shining it on him.

The Doctor shook his head, sitting back against the wall. "Fifteen minutes, she said. You have to--"

"Stop it," said Rose firmly. "We have plenty of time. You just need to catch your breath. You can do it."

The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, groaning as he tried to shift into a comfortable position. "I can't--"

"Yes, you can."

"No, I _can't_!" he snapped back, loud enough to startle Rose. He stared at her, suddenly furious. "This body, this _stupid_ human body, it's too weak, all right? I can't regenerate, I _can't_..." He trailed off, scrubbing his face with his hands, and Rose watched him silently, unsure what to do. When he finally dropped his hands, his voice was quiet. "Rose, listen -- you have to keep moving. There isn't much time. It's been ten minutes. _You have to keep moving_. You have to get out of here."

" _Stop it_ ," Rose demanded again, the back of her throat beginning to burn. "Stop saying that, I'm not leaving you, you know that."

"You _have_ to--"

"Well I'm not, so you can forget it." She sat down in front of him, dropping the torch into her lap to grab his hand. "Listen to me. I'm not going anywhere without you, yeah? So we've got to think of something else." She twined their fingers together, squeezing his hand and forcing a smile. "We can do that. We always do."

But the Doctor didn't look convinced or even heartened. In the dim light of the torch she could just make out the defeat on his face as he shook his head. "No." His voice was thick. "Rose, you've got to go. You have to get out of here. I have to know you're safe. I can't be the reason you're not."

He put his other hand over top of theirs, watching her with wide, imploring eyes, but Rose shook her head. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"Rose..."

"I'm not." She pulled her hand out of his, running her fingers through his hair again. "I didn't come all the way out here just to go home without you." She tried for a grin. "You're stuck with me."

"Rose, _please_."

His voice cracked as he said it, and the desperation broke her heart. She bit her lip, trying not to cry and wondering what to say. A part of her wanted to appease him, wanted to do whatever he was asking on the rare times he sounded like he did now, terrified and helpless. But a larger part of her rejected the idea of leaving him for anything.

“You don’t understand.” The Doctor brushed some hair behind her ear, his hand trembling. “The things I’ve done, the number of people who’ve been hurt because of me, the number of people who have _died_ for me… I don’t want you on that list.” He swallowed. “I can’t be the reason something happens to you, Rose. I can’t, I just _can’t_.” He dropped his hand, cupping the back of her head. “Please don’t make me. _Please_.”

Swallowing thickly, Rose wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him into as best a hug as she could manage. The Doctor buried his face in her shoulder immediately, clinging to her even as he pleaded with her to leave. His heart was beating too fast and his breaths were short and shaky. She squeezed his shoulder, holding him as close as she could. It seemed all the stress and exhaustion of the last few days was finally breaking through the surface; he was panicking.

Rose pressed a kiss to the side of his head, trying to fight back her own growing fear. Anders had said they were going to kill him. The least she could do was try to be there for him.

"Doctor, listen to me. I'd rather be here, with you, right now, than anywhere else without you, you got that?"

The Doctor was quiet for a moment, though whether in comfort or defeat she couldn't tell. Then he said, very quietly, "I just want you safe. That's all I ever want. Please go."

Rose thought about how furious it always made her when he chose for her, like she couldn't take care of herself and like he wasn't just as mortal as she was these days. But sitting here like this, with the Doctor on the verge of physical and emotional collapse, Rose couldn't find it in herself to be angry. She knew she would do the same thing in his position -- beg him to go on without her even as she knew he never would. It would be horrible, knowing that he'd given up a chance at escape just for her -- not to help her, because he couldn't, but simply to go down next to her.

She felt a wave of guilt. The Doctor had put her ahead of the universe, done something that would haunt him just to keep her safe. And here she was, throwing away that opportunity just because she couldn't stand to be without him.

She wondered which of them was the selfish one.

She closed her eyes. "I know. But it's not your job to protect me. It's not your fault, all right? Whatever happens, it's not your fault. I chose to stay here. My choice, yeah?"

Her words didn't seem to make much difference. "I'm sorry," he murmured into her neck, and then, "I love you."

Rose nodded, rubbing her hand up and down his back. "I love you, too."

The Doctor said nothing else. He slumped against her, turning his head so she could feel his warm breath on her neck. Rose traced her fingers through his hair, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to muster up some degree of hope. She and the Doctor had been cornered before and they'd always made it out. There had to be something they could do, some way out -- if she could just _think_...

"Can you hear that?" the Doctor asked her quietly.

Rose opened her mouth to say "no" but then she heard it, too--the sound of footsteps, off in the distance. Someone was coming. She pulled back so she could look the Doctor in the eye, cradling his cheek with her hand.

"We'll be okay," she affirmed, trying to inject her voice with as much certainty as she could. "We'll think of something. We always do." She forced a smile. "The stuff of legends, yeah?"

The Doctor didn't answer, and though he managed a weak smile in return he still looked profoundly sad. One of his arms slid from around her and she felt him shove the sonic screwdriver into her pocket, but before she could argue he leaned forward, closing the gap between them with a kiss. It was hesitant at first but grew more frantic, and his arms reached up to tangle his fingers in her hair. Rose matched his desperation, her hand clutching the back of his head.

She could hear the footsteps coming closer but ignored them. It might well be her last few moments with the Doctor and she was reluctant to give them up for anything. She wondered if they would kill him on the spot or take him away from her first. She wondered which would be worse. She didn't wonder what they would do with her -- if they killed the Doctor it wouldn't matter.

The lights in the hallway turned on as the power came back and the footsteps drew nearer. Rose pulled back but rested her forehead against the Doctor's, her eyes still shut. The Doctor's hand took hers and twined their fingers together.

"Oh, how sweet," came Anders' voice, dripping with scarcely-concealed disgust.

Reluctantly, Rose opened her eyes and sat back, scowling at Anders. She felt a fresh surge of fury and she clutched the Doctor's hand, drawing her lips into a thin line. Anders stepped closer to them, flanked by a handful of AIF's guards. Rose shifted closer to the Doctor, reluctant to show fear but wanting as much space as possible between her and Anders.

"Honestly I'm a bit disappointed," Anders went on, staring down at them. "Not much of an escape attempt for a genius. Cutting the power, all right, not bad, but stopping to cuddle? That's just poor planning. I'd have thought you'd be more eager to get your wife to safety, Dr Smith."

Anders looked at Rose coldly as he said it, but she cast a worried glance at the Doctor. He kept his face blank, but his hand was gripping hers painfully tight. Rose scooted back to the wall to sit beside him, and the Doctor wrapped his free arm around her waist.

"Unless of course you _couldn't_ ," Anders went on, looking at the Doctor. "That's a shame. Perhaps your species is more brains than brawn." He smiled. "Mattias, help Dr Smith to his feet."

One of the guards stepped forward and grabbed the Doctor under his arm, heaving him to his feet. Rose shoved herself up immediately but another guard caught her good arm, twisting it behind her back and causing her bruise from earlier to sting. The Doctor looked unsteady where he stood but kept his face blank as Mattias pulled his hands behind his back and handcuffed him.

Anders stepped towards the Doctor, that eerie smile still on his lips. "I must say I'm a bit hurt, Dr Smith. Here I thought we'd been working so well together these last few days. What do we have to do to make you behave? Break your wife's other arm?"

Finally Anders got the reaction he was looking for; the Doctor lunged forward, his cool mask replaced by a furious glare. "Don't you dare," he snarled.

Anders raised his eyebrows. "I don't think you're in any position to be making demands, Dr Smith."

He turned towards Rose and the Doctor strained against Mattias' hold. "Kill me instead," the Doctor said, and though his voice was tight and controlled Rose recognized the fear lurking under the surface. "Your virus is done, you don't need me anymore."

"No!" cried Rose.

But Anders froze, spinning slowly on his heel to face the Doctor. "Is that so?"

The Doctor nodded curtly, his face deceptively impassive. "It's close enough to complete that Inga could finish the rest. You don't need me anymore. And I know what that means, that means you get to kill me. But if you don't need me then you don't need to hurt her to make me cooperate. Kill me, but let her go."

" _No_." Rose struggled ineffectually against her captor, twisting and turning. "No, don't you dare, I'm not going anywhere without him--"

The Doctor swallowed, and he met Rose's eye for the briefest of seconds before looking at Anders again. "She's human."

Anders' smile was spreading wider by the second. He looked between the two of them, utterly delighted. "Now, isn't this touching? Such _devotion_. Between two different species, no less." He looked at the Doctor. "You're like her pet."

The Doctor didn't acknowledge the insult. He kept his head held high but softened his voice. "Please, Anders. I'm begging you--do whatever you want to me, just let her go."

Rose shook her head, still struggling. "No. No, you can't--please--you _can't_ \--"

Anders ignored her, looking over his shoulder. "Inga? Is it true the virus is almost finished?"

Inga pushed her way through the couple of guards but stopped short of coming to Anders. She was pale as she regarded the Doctor and it was a moment before she spoke. "I... I don't know, it's a very complex process, without Dr Smith's help, I'm not sure..."

"So we've got a difference in scientific opinion," said Anders. "Fascinating." He turned around again, walking over to the torch Rose had left lying on the ground. He picked it up and tossed it from hand to hand. "You see, this escape plan of yours -- it's very simple. Turn out the lights and run away with by torch light. Thing is..." He moved to face them again, frowning in feigned thought. "Where did you _get_ the torches?"

Rose looked at the Doctor, who was staring determinedly at the ceiling and not at Inga. A petty part of Rose wanted to say something--whether she'd helped them or not, Inga was still the woman who'd put the Doctor through hell. But she held her tongue and focused on the ground.

Anders stepped forward, passing Rose. "And putting the security cameras on delay, _that_ was clever. But how'd you do it? You'd need access to the security room in the first place, and if you were trying to escape it'd be a bit of a detour. I'd say you'd need a bit of help. But from who?"

Rose and the Doctor exchanged a look as Anders turned to Rose. "Maybe your good friend Torbjörn? Fond of him, aren't you? Maybe you hatched a plan while you were alone in the showers together?"

" _What_?" yelped the Doctor, his eyes going wide.

"Boss--" began Torbjörn.

Anders ignored them both, still smirking at Rose. "But then I said 'clever', didn't I?" He spun around again. "And I'm afraid 'clever', Torbjörn, is not how I'd describe you." He stepped towards Inga then. "Don't you agree, Inga?"

Inga went pale, taking a step away from Anders and bumping into Torbjörn. For a moment she looked like she might deny it, but then she burst out, "They're _people_ , Anders, just look at them! They love each other, they're just trying to take care of each other, they're--" She broke off as Anders closed the distance between them and grabbed her by the arms.

"Leave her alone," the Doctor ordered, his voice quiet with anger and impatience.

Anders didn't let go of her; he didn't even look over at the Doctor when he spoke. "Are you actually defending the woman who tortured you?"

"Oh, I'd defend anyone from you," the Doctor said plainly. "Besides, she's not only human, she's one of yours. Even by your faulty moral compass that's not right."

"She's a traitor," Anders spat. He tilted his head. "You've been playing favourites with your patients, Dr Lindkvist. What would the others think? Do you think they'd be as forgiving as Dr Smith? You ought to pay them a visit. Where's that one with the big teeth?"

Torbjörn looked uncomfortable. "Boss..."

"Shut up," Anders snapped. Inga tried to squirm away from him and Anders looked over his shoulder at the Doctor and Rose. "You could all go. Bit of a field trip. I'm sure you'd feel right at home, Ms Tyler, sharing a cell with a beast."

Rose looked from the Doctor to Inga's wide, terrified eyes. In truth Anders' threat didn't scare Rose as much as he probably intended; after the last couple days aliens didn't seem at all dangerous compared to other humans. Maybe the Doctor could talk to it, could explain...

But whatever creature he was referring to had no doubt been in AIF's care much longer than the Doctor had, and Rose knew that after so long that much torture would do things to a person. Some of them, she knew, would turn meek and docile, but others were bound to respond with hostility and violence. If Anders was trying to use one as a threat, Rose was willing to bet it wasn't one of the docile ones.

"They're _human_ , Anders," the Doctor said again. "Have you really sunk so low? Aren't they the ones you're trying to protect from people like me? Inga was just doing what she thought was right. She knew the virus was complete, she wasn't jeopardizing AIF's progress. Fire her if you like, but don't kill her. And Rose... Rose is innocent."

"You're wasting your breath, Dr Smith. I'm not about to take moral guidance from an alien."

Rose snorted. "Why not? The Doctor's more human than you are."

Anders let go of Inga, shoving her roughly towards Torbjörn, who placed a hand on her shoulder but did nothing else. Anders stalked back towards Rose, his eyes narrowed. "Jakob, break her arm."

Rose closed her eyes, bracing for the pain, but it didn't come.

" _No_!" the Doctor cried -- and so did Inga, springing forward with one arm out.

"Jakob," she said, "don't. Listen to me, she's--"

Anders spun around and hit her in one smooth motion. Inga fell backwards, tripping over her heels, and Torbjörn caught her before she hit the ground, watching his boss with wide eyes. Jakob's grip on Rose's arm loosened in surprise while Torbjörn helped Inga to her feet.

"Don't _ever_ undermine my authority again," Anders snarled, starting towards Inga, "you--"

Torbjörn stopped him with one hand on Anders' chest. "Leave her."

Anders stared at Torbjörn in momentary silence, breathing heavily, clearly furious but physically outmatched. Rose looked across at the Doctor, who raised his eyebrows as though to say _well, isn't this unexpected?_ when he suddenly looked up at the ceiling, brow furrowing. It took a moment and then Rose heard it, too -- a sort of low rumble from above.

"I don't suppose your top floor is a dance studio?" the Doctor asked, and Inga, Anders and Torbjörn all turned to look at him. The Doctor shrugged, gesturing upwards with his head. "That would explain the footsteps."

All of them looked up, following the sound from above as it moved across the ceiling. Then there was a loud beating noise.

“Helicopters,” said the Doctor, “cavalry’s all here.”

The goon holding onto Rose relaxed his grip and she shifted slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, Rose caught a glimpse of movement. She looked over in time to see Anders deliver a sharp kick to the back of Torbjörn’s knee. As Torbjörn crumpled, Anders seized his gun, whipping around to aim straight for the Doctor.

Rose acted on instinct—she tore out of the goon’s grip and lunged forward, tackling Anders with the force of her bodyweight. She cried out as her broken arm collided with his chest and they thudded to the floor. The gun rang off, bullet lodging somewhere overhead.

“ROSE!”

Rose started at the Doctor’s voice, turning around to find him straining against Mattias’s grip. Anders used the distraction to flip her over, wrestling her to the floor. She gritted her teeth against the pain ringing up and down her arm and looked up into Anders’ smirking face. His knees dug into her thighs and he clicked the gun near her neck.

“I like you better on the bottom.”

“Me too,” Rose spat, wrenching her knee up and into his groin.

He moaned in pain and before he could retaliate, Rose thwacked him in the throat with her good hand. He choked, instinctively curling into a ball. Rose wiggled out from under him and kicked the gun out of his hand. It slid across the floor and came to a rest. Breathing hard, she backed up a few steps, banging into the Doctor who was still struggling against Mattias’ hold.

She turned around, shooting the Doctor a quick, reassuring smile before addressing Mattias. “Let him go.”

Mattias hesitated, gaze jumping to Anders.

“Do something,” he hissed. With great effort, he pulled himself into a kneeling position. “Kill him. Both of them.”

“No,” said Inga with a sudden calmness. “No, we won’t be killing anyone.”

Rose’s heart jumped when she heard Pete’s voice from upstairs. “Come on! The gunshot came from downstairs.”

Inga approached Anders, looking sad and a little weary. “It’s over for you, Anders. I’m sorry.”

That seemed to be enough for Mattias. He released the Doctor and Rose hastened forward, using the sonic screwdriver to undo his handcuffs. As soon as he was free, he enveloped her in a tight hug. Rose could feel him shaking as he leaned into her—though whether it was from fear for her or complete exhaustion she couldn’t say.

“You can’t honestly _listen_ to her,” said Anders, looking at his employees in turn, “she’s a traitor, she _betrayed_ us, she _helped them_!"

There was a long pause as Inga, Mattias, Torbjörn, and the rest of Anders’ goons turned to stare at Anders. No one said anything—leaving Rose with the distinct impression that they were simply waiting for Torchwood to show up.

Moments later, a door blew open and in marched Pete, Agent Callie and Francis, two dozen of her old Torchwood colleagues, and—

“ _Mum_?” said Rose, releasing the Doctor to stare open-mouthed at Jackie, marching behind Pete with the biggest gun that Rose had ever seen.

“Hello, sweetheart,” said Jackie. With a hard gaze, she surveyed AIF and then cocked her gun. “Now which one of you is responsible for kidnapping my son-in-law?”

“Jacks—” began Pete, “we really can’t just start shooting indiscriminately—”

“Oh, I dunno, it might make me feel better,” Jackie insisted.

Both Francis and Callie looked amused by their sniping while Rose continued to stare open-mouthed at her mother. AIF watched them passively, faces tight and glum.

Only Anders seemed to have any real spark left. He struggled to push himself to his feet before falling. “Backup is on the way, this is a _highly_ protected base, you—”

“Oh, can it,” said the Doctor. He placed a hand on Rose’s shoulder and she got the sense it was more to hold himself upright than any real gesture of support. “Jackie, as much as I appreciate the rescue, I don’t think you’ll find much resistance.”

Pete’s gaze jumped over to the Doctor. “No offence, Doctor, but you look entirely like you could use our help.”

Inga stepped forward, her face pale and pinched, but her words measured, “It’s all right. We’ll stand down.” She looked back at the rest of AIF. One by one, Anders’ goons nodded, lowering their weapons to the floor. Anders watched them with his mouth slowly falling open, looking like he wasn’t quite sure how to react.

“Well...” said Pete, “that was unexpectedly easy.”

“Oh, _Rose_ ,” said Jackie tearfully. She thrust her gun into Pete’s chest who “oomfed” but held onto it. “I was so worried.”

A second later, Rose was wrapped in her mother’s arms. “I missed you too, Mum,” said Rose, fighting for air. “Thanks for coming after us.”

“Don’t you dare ever do that to me again,” she said, “taking off in the dead of night, not telling anyone where you had disappeared off to....”

“I know, mum, I’m sorry, I—” but before Rose could finish, the Doctor gasped and then fell to his knees, hands coming out to break his fall.

Rose wrenched herself away from her mother, kneeling beside the Doctor. She touched his shoulder, fighting down tears. He turned to look at her, clearly struggling to keep from completely collapsing.

She put her arm around him and he leaned into her heavily, body shaking against hers. She twisted her head around. “He needs help,” she cried.

Pete nodded. “Callie, Francis, get the nearest medic in here now.”

They hurried off and Rose focused on the Doctor again. She rubbed his back, making soothing noises. “It’s okay,” she said. “We’re going to get you help, yeah? Just hang in there.”

Jackie crouched down on his other side, meeting Rose’s concerned gaze over the top of the Doctor’s head. “It’s okay now, sweetheart,” she said soothingly. “Medic’s on his way.”

Rose pressed a kiss to the Doctor’s forehead. Over his shoulder, she caught Inga staring at them. She met the other woman’s gaze and held it until Inga looked away first. 


	6. Chapter 6

Outside the compound, Torchwood had set up what looked like its own military base. More helicopters buzzed overhead while Torchwood agents stood guard near the exits, each of them armed to the nines but looking uncertain as to how to continue. The captured AIF personnel were sitting on a grassy area outside of the base with one lone Torchwood operative to keep an eye on them. Anders was the only one in handcuffs.

Rose stood in the overhang of a military helicopter. Behind her a Torchwood medic was fussing over the Doctor who was complaining loudly about “dark age medicine” and how he would not, under any circumstances, allow himself to be drugged with morphine. “It makes me loopy,” he said, nearly falling off the stretcher in an attempt to dodge an IV needle.

Rose smiled faintly—the annoyed edge in his voice was reassuring after the way he’d collapsed inside the base. A part of her felt like she should be back there holding his hand, but a larger part of her was relieved to put some distance between them. After the intensity of what they just shared—after coming face-to-face with everything they would be willing to sacrifice for each other—Rose felt like she needed some time away from him to regroup and think.

She stood up straighter as Pete strode across the compound towards her, his face shining with sweat. “We have to pull out,” he said, “the Swedish army got wind of our attack and is on their way over.”

“What?” said Rose. “We can’t just leave.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s exactly what we have to do,” said Pete, stopping in front of her. He tugged a tissue out of his pocket and wiped his forehead. “Rose, I tried to tell you, you can’t just... just... _walk_ into another country and attack them. It’s an act of war— _of course_ the Swedish army is on the way. We violated their territorial integrity.”

“They kidnapped _us_ ,” Rose hissed.

“They kidnapped the Doctor,” said Pete, his voice rising slightly, “they, in fact, wanted nothing to do with you until _you_ attacked them.”

“Pete!” said Jackie, appearing out of nowhere to glare at her husband. “You’re not suggesting that we shouldn’t have come after them—our own daughter?”

Pete pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, of course not, Jackie, but that doesn’t change the main point—we _cannot_ stay here.”

“But we can’t just leave—” Rose pressed, “they’ve been capturing and experimenting on aliens for ages now, Dad. Not just the Doctor. It’s just... it’s sick. We’ve got to stop it.”

Pete shook his head. “Not our business.”

“How can you _say_ that?”

“I’m sorry, Rose, I’m as sympathetic to their situation as the next person, but I am _not_ risking a war over it.”

Rose glared at him.

Jackie shifted, looking at Rose pleadingly. “Maybe he’s got a point, sweetheart. We’ve got you and the Doctor now—you’re both safe. There’s no reason to stay.”

Rose hesitated. “Yeah there is,” she said. “There's something else. They got the Doctor to build this thing for them—this weapon.”

Pete’s expression was immediately suspicious. “What sort of weapon?”

“It’s a virus.” Rose took a breath. “One that’s genetically modified to wipe out everything--everything not from Earth.”

Jackie and Pete glanced at each other. “But the Doctor would never do that,” began Jackie slowly.

Rose shook her head and looked at the ground, fighting back tears. “That’s why,” she whispered. “That’s why we can’t just leave.”

“Yes, we can,” said a voice behind them.

The three of them turned to find the Doctor standing on his feet with an IV drip hanging out of his arm. He looked at the morphine bag like it was an affront to his dignity, but he shuffled forward, managing to more or less stay upright.

“What are you doing?” said Jackie. “The medic’s not finished with you yet, you can’t just—”

The Doctor ignored her and strode out of the helicopter, morphine bag tucked under his arm. After a stunned moment, Rose, Jackie, and Pete went after him. They followed him all the way to the group of AIF personnel where Anders looked up, balefully glaring at the Doctor from his spot on the ground.

“Well,” said the Doctor, “it seems we have a major international incident to avoid, so we’ll just be off now.” He gave them a little wave and then turned to Inga, suddenly serious. “But first, we have some business to settle, don’t we?”

Inga pushed herself to her feet, brushing her palms off on her lab coat. “We’ve talked it over and... we’ve agreed that I’ll be taking over as head of AIF.”

The Doctor nodded. “Good.”

“GOOD?!” Rose exploded. “She tortured you for days! She made you build that thing! How can you leave her in charge?!”

“Rose—” said the Doctor, shooting her his best can-we-talk-about-this-later look.

“Ms Tyler, I assure you that the virus will be destroyed and its records wiped from our system,” began Inga. “As for the aliens—”

“I don’t believe you,” said Rose flatly. “Leave behind the power of a weapon like that? Not you.”

Inga continued like she hadn’t been interrupted, “We’ll catalogue them and decide which ones can safely be released. We’ll even help them get home if it comes to that.”

“And the experiments?” Rose pressed. “The dissections and the torture? Is that going to continue?”

“No,” said Inga firmly. “We will continue our mission of protecting Earth from alien threats, but I promise that I’ll change things. We'll go about it a different way.”

Rose looked away, hating the idea of leaving the woman who had tortured her husband in charge of AIF. But she also knew that Pete was right—they _couldn’t_ cause a war over this. Inga was giving them a way out—if she followed through on her promise, they could leave without guilt.

“Rose,” said the Doctor softly, pleadingly.

“And Anders?” she finally said. “What will you do with him?”

Inga seemed to take this as token acceptance and her lips curved up into a small smile. “We’ll report his actions to the local authorities and let him stand trial for what he’s done. We won't kill him, if that's what you're asking."

The Doctor nodded approvingly at Inga and Pete looked intensely relieved.

“Great,” he said. He pulled up a communicator device. “Time to clear out—our work here is done. I repeat, time to leave. I’ll see you lot back in London.”

\---

The airplane hummed under her feet as Rose stood up, carefully tucking a blanket up to the Doctor’s shoulders. He didn’t stir and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head before turning to rejoin her mother in the lounge.

Dad had insisted that they take one of Vitex’s company jets back to London, claiming that he would ride with the rest of Torchwood in the military helicopters. Rose hadn’t put up much fight; the promise of a comfortable flight after so many days of captivity was undeniably appealing. The Doctor hadn’t argued at all—a clear sign that he was fading. Sure enough, they had barely been in the air five minutes before he’d been sound asleep, curled up on one side with the IV drip still sticking out of his arm. The medic had assured her that he would likely recover fine with some sleep and rest, but Rose suspected she still had yet to see the full extent of the damage AIF had done to him. A long talk was due in their future and Rose reckoned it was fortunate for Inga that she and AIF would be a long way away when it happened.

She found Jackie in the lounge area, her feet propped up on the seat in front of her. She was talking to someone into a computer screen, “Rose has just been in an accident, sweetheart, but it’s fine now—you’ll see her again soon. No, you can’t stay up past your bedtime, you can see her in the morning. Tell Nessie that you need your bath first— _yes_ , you have to have it, you want to look nice for your sister, don’t you? Oh, Tony Tyler, don’t you dare run off on that poor woman, your father will hear about this one—”

Rose sat down across from her, idly tapping her foot while she waited for her mother to finish. Finally, signing off with a loud kiss and an “I love you” Jackie shut the computer screen, looking up to face Rose with a smile.

“How is he?” she jerked her head backwards, towards the Doctor.

“Sleeping,” said Rose. Her fingers drummed restlessly on the arm rest. “I’ve never seen him sleep like that—he didn’t even know I was there.”

Jackie frowned in sympathy. “Rose...” she began, “what did they do to him?”

She shook her head and looked away. “I dunno... not all of it,” she began haltingly. “I know they tortured him. For days. I don’t know how he stood it.”

“Oh, Rose,” said Jackie softly. She leaned across the aisle and stroked Rose’s good arm. “You heard what the medic said—he’s going to be just fine.”

Rose sniffed and then wiped her nose, angrily trying to keep her tears back. “I know. I just.... I wish I could have helped him. I felt so useless.” Jackie watched her worriedly, uncharacteristically silent. After a pause, Rose whispered, “They used me against him, Mum.”

Jackie removed her hand from Rose’s arm and it was a moment before she answered. “That virus.”

“Yeah,” she said brokenly. “You were right, Mum, he would never build something like that— _never_. He would have died first.”

“But they had you,” Jackie said in a hushed voice, face filling with understanding.

Rose nodded miserably.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jackie said.

“A part of me keeps thinking that maybe some part of him hates me for it—or worse, that he’s blaming me for it.”

“Rose, you know that’s not true,” she said. “If anything, that man’s blaming himself—he always has.”

Rose tried to muster up a smile. “Yeah.” She paused. “That doesn’t exactly make it any better.”

“No,” said Jackie softly, “I suppose it doesn’t.”

The two women lapsed into silence and Rose turned to look out the window, idly staring at the expansive blue of the ocean below.

“Mum,” she said suddenly, “if it had been Dad—what would you have done? If you knew he was in danger, would you do everything you could to help him? Even if it meant you had to sacrifice other people?”

She turned to her mother, searching her face desperately for an answer.

Jackie thought for a moment before answering. “I’ll tell you what, Rose, I’d give up an awful lot for your father—but not that, not another living person. Not that far.”

Something in Rose’s stomach clenched painfully. “Oh.”

“Rose, I didn’t mean....” Jackie said, “I’m grateful that the Doctor made the choice he did, you hear me? It all turned out for the best in the end—both of you alive and the world safe. You two, you sometimes go off like you’re invincible, thinking that you’re the only two people in the world who can protect each other. But you listen to me, Rose, you should never have gone after the Doctor alone like you did. You should have told me or your father or _someone_. We would have helped you.”

Rose shook her head. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just so worried...”

Jackie heaved a sigh. “Rose, I know. I don’t blame you, sweetheart, I know what you two are like.”

But she sounded so _sad_ that Rose could barely look at her.

“I’m sorry,” Rose whispered, “I didn’t mean to worry you, I....”

“I know that,” Jackie said gently. “Listen, it’s like I said. It all turned out for the best, yeah? You’re here now. Both of you.”

Rose tried to nod but then she pressed her hand to a mouth, choking down a sob. Jackie’s features softened and she pushed the computer away.

“Come here, then,” she said.

Without another word, Rose moved to the other seat, lying her head down in her mother’s lap. Jackie stroked her hair and Rose bit down on her bottom lip as a tear leaked down her cheek.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

Rose tried to say “thanks” but all that came out was a sob. She squeezed her eyes shut and let the tears come. Jackie stroked her hair while she cried.

\---

Most of the taxi ride home from the airport was spent in awkward silence, something that only got worse after they dropped Jackie off at the mansion. Normally it was the Doctor who was good in these sorts of situations. A downright expert at avoiding any emotional discussion, he was usually the first to strike up a conversation with the taxi driver over the make and model of his car or how precisely the taxi business first got started. But most of this ride he spent in silence, staring out the window with his head against the glass, one hand clasped over Rose's. She wasn't sure whether it was exhaustion or something worse, and it worried her.

It was the early hours of the morning when they pulled in the drive and got out of the cab. Rose instinctively shivered in the cool evening air and the Doctor glanced sideways at her.  
He placed a hand on her back. “Come on,” he said quietly.

She leaned into him as they climbed the steps to their flat. He didn’t speak again—and Rose was relieved to have the momentary distraction of fishing out her keys and opening the door. Inside, the flat was warm and stuffy and had that musty smell of a place that had been shut up for too long.

She dropped her keys on the nearby side table and then turned to the Doctor. “Well....” she began, trying to force a reassuring smile. But he only stared back at her, tired and grim. Feeling self-conscious, Rose searched around for something to say. “Windows—“ she muttered, “I better open them.”

She moved through the living room, opening the windows along the back wall and trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes boring into her back. Finally, the last window was open and she had no choice but to turn around.

She met the Doctor’s eyes and felt her chest constrict. They hadn’t been this awkward around each other since Bad Wolf Bay.

“I...” she began, but he cut her off abruptly.

“Your cast,” he said. He stepped over to her, staring at her broken arm. He reached out and then traced the edge of her cast with his fingertips. Rose tensed, but then relaxed when she saw the concern in his eyes. "Twenty-first century medicine is rubbish," he said after a moment. "Come on, I'll fix it."

“You can?”

“Remember the Bubble Ships that fell to Earth, oh, a couple months back?” Rose nodded. “I might have nicked a few things from their infirmary.”

Rose couldn’t stop her smile, and for one second, the Doctor returned it. But she still hesitated. It was true that the cast was uncomfortable, and she trusted the Doctor’s abilities to heal it. But she was tired and hungry and they'd both been wearing the same clothes for days--the Doctor's suit was in even worse condition than he was. They needed rest and a hot meal and a hot shower more than anything else.

"It can wait,” she finally said, “you need food and rest and, quite honestly, a shower, and--"

"It won't take long." He looked away from her cast and dropped his hand down to take hers. "Come on."

With a quiet sigh, Rose let him lead her down the hallway towards the bathroom. She knew what this was. It was penance, a desperate attempt to _fix_ something in order to counteract what he'd spent the last few days doing for AIF. She supposed it wasn't her place to stop him. She knew that there were times in his life where all that kept him going was that driving need to pay off his perceived debt to the universe.

\--

The Doctor’s fingers traced lightly over the cast on her arm and Rose shifted, tilting her head to smile hopefully up at him. He didn’t smile back.

His fingers brushed her skin just above the cast, his eyes regretful. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

With a pang, Rose remembered what her mum had said in the airplane about the Doctor blaming himself. She reached out with her good hand, grasping his fingers between hers. She squeezed his hand. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “I was the one who came after you, yeah?”

The Doctor nodded mutely. He dropped her hand and pulled out the sonic screwdriver, pushing his specs up his nose. He cut the cast methodically and carefully, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t say anything while he worked and Rose felt increasingly nervous. The Doctor being this silent felt _wrong_ —like the world was coming to an end or she had used up the last of the jam.

She hissed softly when the Doctor's fingers brushed her arm and she looked away, focusing on a spot over his shoulder as he rubbed foul-smelling alien goo against her skin, all the way down to her broken finger. She could tell he was trying to be as gentle as possible so she did her best to hide her discomfort.

A moment later he pulled his hand back. "This is going to sting a bit," he said softly. He held out the sonic screwdriver and Rose sucked in a breath as he pointed it at her arm.

She grabbed his shoulder with her other hand, squeezing tightly as pain reverberated up and down her arm. She gritted her teeth and then released a long breath as the pain dulled and then faded.

The Doctor switched off the sonic screwdriver. He twirled it once in his hand and then deposited it back in his pocket. "There, you see? Good as new."

The familiar cheer in his tone lifted her spirits and she experimentally lifted her arm up and down. The Doctor watched her movements carefully, smile tugging at his mouth. But there was something sad and heavy in his eyes and it brought a lump to her throat.

She stepped in closer to him, leaning in for a hug. His arms wrapped around her and she nuzzled into his shoulder, closing her eyes. A moment later the Doctor flinched and then loosened his hold, backing up to hold her at arm's length.

His eyes were apologetic as they swept over her face. "Sorry, it's just--"

"You're still injured," Rose said. "Can I..." she swallowed, "that stuff - that alien goo - I could use it to help you, yeah?"

He let go of her, hands dropping back down to his sides. "I'm all right."

His words were heavy and weighted and not at all reassuring. Rose bit her lip, unsure whether he was trying to punish himself for building that virus for AIF or if was some Time Lord pride thing.

"Don't be stupid," she said, voice shaky. She reached for the jar of alien goo. "Take off your shirt," she said as the Doctor hesitated. She fixed him with her best Jackie Tyler stare. "Do it."

He looked like he might argue but then he sighed and complied. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, throwing it on the counter top behind him. Then he pulled off his undershirt, tossing it on top of the jacket.

Rose gasped and then stared. Her earlier anger with AIF and Dr Inga came flooding back - his chest was a patchwork of cuts and burns, the skin tinged purple and blue. He'd told her about AIF's experiments, but he hadn't ever really let on to how much _pain_ he had to be in. Tears stung her eyes. No wonder he hadn't been able to keep up with her back at AIF - it was a wonder he was still standing at all.

The Doctor caught her eyes, looking regretful. "It's okay--" he began.

But she cut him off with a hiss. "It's not okay, not even a bit." She dipped her fingers into the alien goo and then smoothed her fingers over his chest. He clenched his jaw, but otherwise had no reaction. "I can't believe we just.... just.... _left_ them there."

"Rose--"

"What sort of place _does_ this to people?" she said, dipping her hand back in the alien goo. It was getting harder to see behind her tears, but she kept her touch gentle when she returned to smoothing it over his chest.

"Rose, I've had worse." He touched her chin and she looked up at him. "Honestly, I have."

Rose twisted the cap back onto the jar of alien goo and returned it to the counter. Then she picked up his discarded jacket, searching through the pockets until she found the sonic screwdriver. She went back over to him.

"I'm never going to let anything hurt you again," she said. "What setting is it?"

He looked like he didn't quite know how to reply. "35D," he finally settled on.

Rose nodded and turned on the sonic screwdriver. Neither of them said anything as she held it over his injuries, standing in silence as the cuts and bruises marring his skin slowly healed. Finally she shut off the sonic screwdriver and took a step back. His skin was healed, but as she looked him over, she got the sinking feeling that the worst of AIF's damage ran a lot deeper than his injuries.

The Doctor grabbed his shirt and jacket off the counter, beginning to get dressed. "You should get some rest. You still need to be careful with that arm. Give it a few hours."

His voice was full of concern, but his eyes were distant and Rose suspected that he was planning to spend the next few hours sitting in the living room, lost to his own thoughts.

"Come with me?" she said.

He didn't answer right away. "I slept on the plane."

"I know, but I..." she rubbed her arms, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "I don't want to be alone right now."

He finished buttoning up his suit jacket and then held out his hand, eyes softening. "Right. Of course not. Come on."

She mustered up a smile for him and he returned it, fingers waggling at her. She slipped her hand into his and let him lead her away. 


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, aside from a few bruises, Rose found she was not much worse for wear. The Doctor, too, was recovering, and although over the next few days he still moved gingerly and slept more than he ever had before, he was eating enough to reassure Rose and some colour had returned to his face.  
  
But for all that he seemed to be bouncing back physically, Rose sensed that he was pulling away emotionally. She’d hoped his quiet spell would disappear as he got his strength back—but days passed without the Doctor regaining any of his spark. She  _knew_  something was wrong, but in typical Doctor fashion he brushed aside her concern whenever she asked and insisted that he was fine.   
  
"Maybe he just needs some space, sweetheart," had been Jackie's advice when Rose asked her for help. "It can't be easy for him right now. Let him know you're there, but give him some time to work things out on his own."  
  
Previous experience suggested to Rose that the very last thing she could expect was for the Doctor to deal well with emotional fallout on his own. He swallowed things down and tried to ignore them even as they ate away at him, and most often it was only with patient--and not so patient--coaching that she could even get him to admit there was a problem.   
  
This time was different, though. This time Rose was worried  _she_  was the problem. Maybe he resented her for what she'd made him do after all.   
  
So she tried to do what Jackie had suggested. She pretended to believe him when he said he was fine. They spent time at her parents' mansion so that Rose could talk to her family while the Doctor kept to himself. She tried to give him room, and she tried not to worry that doing so was enabling his retreat further and further into himself.   
  
It was three days later that the Doctor offered to make Tony a cake for a substitute birthday dinner, and Rose was hesitantly optimistic. He was talkative during dinner and made sure to horrify Jackie by assuring her that Tony's new model sonic screwdriver was fully functional. By the time they'd all sat down to watch  _Homeward Bound_  together, Rose was feeling cheerier than she had since the Doctor had gone missing. When the Doctor had pressed a kiss to the side of her head and told her he'd be right back, she hadn't thought much of it.  
  
But that had been over twenty minutes ago, and now the empty spot beside her on the sofa wasn't even warm. She sat with her legs pulled up to her chest, nibbling on her bottom lip while she tried and failed to pay attention to the movie. She didn't want to go after him. She wanted him to come back of his own accord because he  _wanted_  to, because he was better now, and because he knew how much it worried her when he went off to sulk alone.   
  
She was fairly certain that wouldn't happen.  
  
She sat there for a couple minutes longer, ignoring her mother's surreptitious glances and weighing her options. She could continue following her mother's advice, and watch the rest of the movie with Tony whether the Doctor kept sulking or not. That was what Tony deserved, at least. She could try to ignore it, and when the Doctor eventually returned she could choose not to say anything at all, knowing full well he'd not answer her properly even if she asked. She could go find the Doctor, wherever he was, and drag him back to watch the rest of the film like he'd said he would.  
  
Or she could go find the Doctor and try for the millionth unsuccessful time to make him understand that relationships depend on communication and that he'd bloody well better start communicating.   
  
Steeling herself for what she was sure would be a difficult conversation, Rose stood up. "I'll be back in a little bit," she told her family.  
  
\---  
  
She finally found him on the roof.  
  
She wasn’t surprised. If one was daring enough, the window in one of the guest rooms opened directly onto a patch of roof that was flat enough to be a reasonable sitting place. It was somewhere he went a lot, ever since they’d first arrived in this world. He always insisted that he liked it primarily because it was a great spot to hide from Jackie, but Rose suspected it had more to do with being able to see the stars. Though he rarely complained, Rose knew he missed that old life even more than she did, and she knew he must miss the TARDIS and the escape she had provided now more than ever.  
  
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Rose announced from inside the window. “If Mum sees you out here she’ll kill you, Tony’s big enough to climb out there now and if he sees  _you_  doing it…”  
  
The Doctor didn’t look at her as he spoke. “I’ll lock it when I head back in. I thought Tony was watching  _Homeward Bound_ with the rest of you?”  
  
“You know how he worships you,” she said, her frustration with the last couple days getting the best of her. “This was your idea in the first place, it’d be nice if you stuck around for the party.”  
  
“Sorry,” he said quietly. But he made no move to get up, and Rose sighed, feeling torn between exasperation and worry. The exasperated part of her wanted to head back downstairs and finish watching  _Homeward Bound_  with her baby brother, hoping that her husband had sense enough to notice the irritation in her steps and get his scrawny arse back inside the house.   
  
The worried part of her knew that would never happen.  
  
"Scootch over," she instructed, hoisting herself up through the window. The Doctor shifted over with little more than a cursory glance in her direction, and Rose settled down next to him, crossing her legs under her. "It's a bit cold out here," she said, rubbing the tops of her arms. "Have you been out here this whole time?"  
  
"Is it? I'm fine. Here." He unbuttoned his suit jacket, slipped it off and draped it over her shoulders. Finally he looked at her, one corner of his mouth lifting in a sad, wistful smile. "First day I met Donna we sat on a rooftop and I gave her my jacket."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
She waited for the rest of the story but it never came. Instead the Doctor's gaze drifted back out over the lawn. He didn't put his arm around her shoulder, either; he clasped his hands together and set them in his lap. Rose bit her lip, looking down at her socks and pulling the jacket tight over her shoulders. She knew what she ought to ask but couldn't seem to bring herself to do it--she knew what the answer might be, and it scared her. But as the awkward silence between them stretched from one minute to the next, Rose finally mustered up her courage.  
  
"Are you angry with me?"  
  
That, at least, sparked a response in the Doctor. "What?" His brow furrowed as he turned to stare at her. "Why would I be angry with you?"  
  
Rose fidgeted under his stare and then looked away, looking out to the sky. “I dunno. ‘Cos it’s my fault I got captured by AIF—because you had to build that thing for them.”  
  
"That wasn't your fault."  
  
"It wasn't your fault either.”   
  
The Doctor didn't say anything.  
  
There was a moment of silence as they sat there. Rose turned to face him, lump gathering in her throat. She touched his arm.  
  
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she said. "Doctor, please. I want to help. I can't do that if you won't talk to me."   
  
For another long moment he was silent, still looking away from her. Then, just as Rose was ready to give up and head inside, he said, "I used to be the sort of man who put the good of the universe before everything else."  
  
He spoke with such resignation that Rose's heart sank. She heard the implication, even if he didn't say it. He  _used_  to be that sort of man--but he wasn't anymore, and he hated himself for it. What could she possibly say to that? Wasn't it because of her?  
  
"You can't blame yourself for what they made you do," she said eventually. "No one should ever have to make that choice."   
  
"I'd've done anything they asked," he admitted. “When they hurt you, I... I would have done anything.”  
  
She took that in and then whispered, “Is that so bad, though?”  
  
He frowned. That obviously wasn't the response he'd expected. “How do you mean?”  
  
“I dunno, it’s just...” she shrugged and looked away, tears stinging her eyes. “Is it so wrong to put each other first?” She paused and then added, “I know how you feel ‘cos I felt it too—why do you think I went in after you? I couldn’t stand the thought that AIF could be torturing you or had killed you. I didn’t even stop to think about the consequences—I didn’t care. I'd've done the same as you. I’d do anything to protect you.  _Anything_.”  
  
At that, he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly between his.   
  
“That,” he said slowly, “is what I would describe as a fairly big weakness in our line of work.”  
  
“Yeah, and so what?” Rose said, voice beginning to crack. “Someone told me once that I made you better. That’s not exactly a ‘weakness,’ is it?”  
  
He squeezed her hands, looking like he wanted to protest but wasn't sure how. “Well... no.”  
  
“I’m not saying it was right, what happened, and maybe without me you could have resisted them longer. Or maybe you would be dead.” She drew in a breath, feeling cold and shaky. “We do some amazing things together, Doctor, the pair of us. Anders took that and he used it against us, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong." She swallowed, the lump in her throat getting steadily bigger. "I keep... I keep thinking that he might have driven us apart or made you think...” her voice grew hoarser and she struggled to push on with the next words, “made you think this life together isn’t worth it.”  
  
She looked down, waiting for him to react in breathless silence. His thumb idly swept over her knuckles, then he turned and leaned down to give her a lingering kiss.   
  
"I love you," he murmured, but the sadness in his voice made her heart sink. With a speed she hadn't expected him to be capable of, he bounced to his feet, suddenly smiling again. "You know, if we hurry, we can still catch the last twenty minutes."   
  
Rose gawked at him, stunned by the emotional whiplash. "Doctor..."  
  
But the Doctor wasn't listening. He was already shoving the window open. "The reunion's the best bit," he was saying, his tone deceptively light. "That moment when Shadow comes over the hill? Brilliant."  
  
" _Doctor_ ," said Rose again, this time with more urgency. Her heart was still pounding, and the shaky, cold feeling had only got worse.   
  
The Doctor hopped through the window, landing in the guest room and holding out his hand to help her through. "Come on! _Allons-y_!"  
  
Rose thought about arguing. She thought about pointing out that she could tell when he was running away, and that she knew he was doing it now. She thought about pointing out that when she'd expressed her fear, he hadn't denied it.  
  
But nerves clogged her throat, and she climbed through the window quietly, clutching his hand and feeling worse than she had before.  
  
\--  
  
The Doctor’s good mood continued through the rest of the movie and during the cab ride home. Rose felt jittery and uneasy throughout the movie, but as they left, she allowed herself to hope that maybe the Doctor was beginning to put AIF behind him. Maybe something she had said on the roof  _had_  got through to him.  
  
Back in their flat, Rose had barely shut the door when the Doctor took her by the hand and caught her eye. With raised eyebrows, he tilted his head in the direction of their bedroom.  
  
Immediately, Rose felt her cheeks warm. They hadn’t had sex in weeks—not since before the Doctor had been kidnapped by AIF. He’d still been too injured after they got home and then, after that, he had put up so many emotional walls that she hadn’t even considered suggesting it.  
  
She bit down on her lip, eyes meeting his hopefully. “Yeah?”  
  
His fingers tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, lingering on the shell of her ear. Her heart rate immediately accelerated and they held each other’s gaze for a few seconds longer before the Doctor leaned in to kiss her. She leaned eagerly into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck and clinging to him.  
  
His arms wrapped around her waist and he gave her a light squeeze before he broke the kiss to press his forehead to hers. “Come on,” he said softly, releasing her and jerking his head towards the bedroom.  
  
There was something sad and resigned in his voice. Rose's heart sank as her hopes of him getting better and moving on were dashed. For a second, she couldn’t move or speak, suddenly terrified that she might lose him forever.  
  
Then she pressed her lips to his, kissing him desperately. “I love you,” she murmured. “I love you  _so much_.”  
  
He caught her face in his hands, thumbs smoothing over her cheeks. “I know, Rose, I’m so sorry that I can’t....”  
  
He trailed off helplessly, and she shook her head. “It’s okay,” she said, trying not to cry. “Whatever it is, it’s okay, yeah?”  
  
He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Yeah.”  
  
She pressed her lips to his, soft and gentle. When she pulled away, she met his eyes, trying for a smile. “If it’s too soon...?”  
  
He shook his head, but he didn’t smile back. “No, I... it’s not that.”  
  
But he didn’t add anything else. Instead he pressed his hand to hers, threading their fingers together, and led her down the hall to their bedroom.  
  
They undressed each other slowly, saying little. They knew each other well after the last few years, but Rose still felt awkward with the silence, like a third unspoken presence in the bedroom.  
  
His kisses were long and desperate and even as she relaxed in his arms, Rose felt like each touch and whisper of love was a silent apology. She kissed him back just as desperately as if she could  _show_  him about how much she loved him. She covered the growing lump in her throat with moans and gasps.  
  
Finally, they collapsed against each other, tired and spent. The Doctor’s whispered “I love you” in her ear was hot and sweaty and nearly made her start to cry.  
  
She cuddled into his side—like always—and as his arm draped heavily over her waist she tried to pretend like that hadn’t just felt like a goodbye.  
  
\--  
  
When Rose woke up a couple of hours later, the first thing she noticed was that she was cold. Instinctively, she patted the spot next to her in confusion until it dawned on her that it was empty. The bottom of her stomach seemed to disappear entirely, and she froze, staring at the Doctor's unused pillow, her fingers slowly curling around the sheets. She wasn't sure how long she lay there, too scared to move and confirm what she was dreading.   
  
The Doctor was gone.  
  
Finally, she worked up the courage to sit up. Feeling hollow, she pulled on a bathrobe and stumbled to the door, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.  _Maybe he just went to get a drink_ , she reasoned, although she was sure that wasn't true. She moved into the hallway and walked toward the kitchen in a daze, and then froze, staring in surprise.  
  
There at the table sat the Doctor, fully dressed and nursing a cup of tea. He looked up as she stepped into view, the corners of his mouth twitching in an almost-smile. "Hi," he said softly.  
  
Rose let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding and sagged against the wall. "Hi." She ran a hand over her face, waiting for her heart to return to its regular pace. "You scared me half to death," she said after a minute. "I thought... I thought you left."   
  
At her words, he looked down, guilt written all over his face. Rose's stomach bottomed out again.   
  
She could barely get the words out. "Are you leaving?"  
  
"No," he said, and Rose exhaled. "Well..." He hesitated, and ran his thumb over the rim of his cup. "Not unless you want me to."  
  
"Don't be stupid." She pushed herself away from the wall, walking over to the table slowly, still feeling like she needed to be cautious, like if she moved too quickly he would bolt. "Why would I want that?"  
  
The Doctor didn't look up from his tea. He swallowed, and Rose noticed that he looked very nervous indeed. "Because I was going to," he said finally.  
  
Rose sank into a chair across from him, taking in his words and mulling them over. So she'd been right after all. She propped her elbows up on the table and rubbed at her eyes. It occurred to her that she ought to feel worried or angry or sad; instead she felt exhausted.   
  
"Why?" was all she asked.  
  
It was a minute before the Doctor answered. He swirled what was left of his tea around in his cup, looking like he wasn't sure what to say. Finally he shrugged, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. "Because I hate the idea that people will hurt you to get to me. And..." He hesitated, then took a deep breath. "And because it scares me how far I will go to keep you safe."  
  
It was the answer Rose had been expecting, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. She sat up, straightened her shoulders and did her best to keep her face impassive. "Were you planning that all night? Did you think, 'oh, I'll just shag her one last time and then sneak away while she's asleep so I don't have to say goodbye'?"   
  
The Doctor studied his tea and said nothing. Rose figured that was as good as a confession.   
  
She chuckled, but it came out sounding on verge of hysterics. "Guess you are the same man," she said, and he bowed his head even lower. She allowed a moment to tick by in awkward silence, and then asked, "So why did you stay?"  
  
"Oh, so many reasons. Because I couldn't hurt you like that." He looked up at her suddenly, his face softening. "Because I don't want to, not really." He managed a small smile. "I got... ooh, all the way to the living room? There's that picture of us on the mantel - you know the one, shot right after we took down that Weevil in the Underground about three hours after we got married.... we look so happy. And then I thought - I  _really_  thought about what it would mean to live in a world where you weren't there in the morning when I woke up. And I couldn't go any further." He paused. "So then I made tea and sat down here."  
  
Rose felt some of her resolve melt away when he looked at her like that. There was something almost pathetic about him - his great escape plans holding up all the way to the living room.   
  
But she wasn't quite ready to give in.  
  
"You could have just talked to me," she said, "you know, like a normal person. God knows I tried."  
  
She heard him sigh and it was a heavy, rattling noise. "I know, I'm sorry." He paused. "Old habits die hard."  
  
"And what about this habit of yours, Doctor? Running off?" she paused, feeling a lump gather in her throat. "My whole life, it feels like I'm always waiting for you to turn around and leave me."  
  
She could tell that stung him. He swallowed. "I won't."  
  
"How am I supposed to believe that?" she whispered. "Tonight just proves it." She folded her arms over her chest, feeling chilly and worn down. "What about the next time things get a bit rough for us, then? Bound to in our line of work. Am I going to catch you sneaking away in the dead of night again?"  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut. "No."  
  
"But how can I  _know_  that?" she said a little desperately. She wiped at her face, not wanting to cry. If she cried, he would come around to comfort her and she knew she would let him. Things would just go unsaid and unresolved. "I can't live like that."  
  
Even as the words left her mouth, a part of her wished she could take them back. The Doctor visibly flinched and she hastily glanced away, trying to look anywhere but at him.   
  
"I don't want to be anywhere else," he finally whispered, "but if I can't make you believe that..."  
  
Rose pushed herself to her feet. She was shaking all over. Still not looking at him, she said, "I think I'm gonna go stay with Mum for a few days."  
  
She allowed herself a glance in his direction and he looked stricken. She stared at him, hoping he'd protest, hoping he'd ask her to stay. Just... something.   
  
Instead he said, "If that's what you need to do."  
  
She had never heard him sound so defeated. With his slumping shoulders and sad eyes, it was all she could do not to go over and put her arms around him.   
  
She forced herself to look away. "Well... I guess I'll go pack then."  
  
Her movements back to the bedroom were jerky and uncoordinated. She tugged a dusty suitcase out of the vestibule, unzipping it on the bed in a daze. Working on auto-pilot, she pulled open her drawers at random, choosing clothes without much thought--two pairs of socks, three knickers, one pair of trousers, and six t-shirts. She stuffed them in the suitcase with shaking hands, her body still trembling all over.   
  
She looked up and almost shrieked in surprise when she found the Doctor standing in the bedroom doorway, watching her silently. His eyes briefly met hers and then he looked away again.   
  
"You should...." he mumbled, "you're cold."  
  
He moved into the bedroom and bent down, rooting through the dresser until he tugged out a huge, fleecy sweatshirt, holding it out for her. Jackie had bought it for the Doctor originally but he had never worn it, adhering stubbornly to his uniform of suits. Rose had adopted it for herself even though the sweatshirt came down to her knees and fit tightly across the chest. She loved being able to snuggle into it on a cold and rainy day and even though the Doctor had never worn it, in a strange way it made her feel like he was close to her.   
  
Swallowing hard, she shrugged off the bathrobe and then tugged the sweatshirt on over her head. A second later she felt much warmer and she gave the Doctor a tight smile. "Thanks."  
  
He didn't smile back--in fact he looked like he was trying not to cry. Rose's heart tugged painfully. Hurriedly, he made a show of looking into her suitcase before frowning.   
  
"You'll need more than that," he said, after a pause. "Toothbrush--"  
  
He disappeared into the bathroom and Rose heard him rooting around in the cabinet. She stood still in the middle of the bedroom, next to the half-packed suitcase, her bare legs sticking out from underneath the giant sweater.   
  
Finally the Doctor came back with her toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste and her favourite shampoo. Suddenly, the reality of the situation seemed to smack her in the face. He was helping her pack. He was helping her pack a suitcase so that she could  _walk out on him_ \--he was helping her do the very thing that he'd been about to do to her.   
  
And it was killing him.   
  
She could see it so plainly all over his face--it would devastate him if she walked out on him now, but he couldn't find the right words to make her stay. So instead he was helping her go.   
  
For a second, she wanted to laugh at them both. After all the years they had spent together, how could they still be so  _thick_ about what was so obvious?   
  
The Doctor was still holding out the toiletries, looking more and more concerned. "Rose?" he finally ventured.   
  
Suddenly calmer than she'd been all night, Rose took the toiletries out of his hands and dumped them on the bed. Then she placed both her hands in his and took a step closer to him. He watched her closely, barely breathing. Then she closed the distance between them, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, her head just under his neck, and waited for him to hug her back. She didn't have to wait long--his arms came around her immediately, holding her in close.   
  
He shuddered once and then relaxed, pressing his cheek down on the top of her head. "Rose," he whispered, "please don't go."  
  
"I won't. I can't--" she managed a chuckle. "I sort of see what you mean now."  
  
His responding laugh seemed to be mostly a noise of relief. Rose leaned up and kissed him lightly. His fingers twined in her hair as he kissed her back, but it didn't progress any further.   
  
When she pulled away, he nuzzled his forehead against hers, holding her quietly. Rose unconsciously sucked in a breath, unwilling to break the silence that had fallen between them. But as the seconds ticked on, her mind began to wander. They were both still sleep deprived, but Rose doubted either one of them would be able to relax enough to get back to sleep. On the other hand, it was still early enough that starting their normal morning routine would be pointless.   
  
"Doctor--" She released him and then pushed her suitcase off the bed. It fell with a thump onto the floor. She turned back to him and took his hand, nodding her head towards the bed. He followed her cue and they both lay back down. Her eyes instinctively closed when her head landed on her pillow. Maybe she was more tired than she'd thought.   
  
The Doctor stretched out next to her, one arm curling around her waist and pulling her into him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she found one of his hands, playing with his fingers as she mulled over her next words.   
  
Finally she said, "Will you tell me what happened to you? In AIF? Please?"  
  
He hesitated and she could read the reluctance all over his face. One thing that certainly hadn't changed with the Doctor was his tendency to avoid talking about difficult topics. Though in this instance, she reckoned it was as much about protecting her from what he thought were unpleasant details as it was about his need to be secretive.   
  
"The step-by-step guide?" he asked after a moment.   
  
She nodded.   
  
His fingers suddenly gripped hers tightly, but he only said, "What about you? What happened when... you said that Anders came to see you?"  
  
As much as she hated his tendency to immediately deflect the topic, she could read the concern in his eyes. He'd obviously had plenty of time to imagine all the worst outcomes and she felt a pang of regret--why hadn't she done more to force them to talk things through days ago?   
  
Besides, maybe if she started with herself, it would make the Doctor more willing to open up.   
  
Rose took a deep breath and started talking.


End file.
